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I 


THE 


OF  THE  LATE 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE, 

OF  THE  121st  REGIMENT,  N.  Y.  VOLUNTEERS. 


GOJvEPILEQ  EEECPjlI{E(D  T$Y  HIS  S^OEHEI^ 

e.  E.  %ICE. 


LITTLE  FALLS. 

JOURNAL  & COTTRIER  BOOK  ATI)  JOB  PRITTITG-  PRESS. 

1864. 


INTRODUCTION. 


ADAM  CLARKE  RICE  was  born  in  Fairfield,  Herki- 
mer Co.,  N.  Y.,  1840.  and  consequently  at  his  death  was 
aged  a little  over  twenty-three  years.  Our  family  was 
large,  consisting  of  five  sons  and  three  daughters  ; Clarke 
was  the  fourth  son.  Nothing  was  remarkable  in  his  early 
life,  except  that  generous  impetuosity  which  afterwards, 
with  proper  training,  gave  promise  to  make  him  a leader 
in  whatever  he  undertook.  His  mind  in  early  years  seem- 
ed to  be  rather  averse  to  books,  and  refused  to  be  chained 
down  to  the  course  of  instruction  usually  dealt  out  to 
boys  of  his  age.  He  was  always  ready  for  some  new  un- 
dertaking, and  never  was  afraid  of  any  task  that  was  suit- 
ed to  his  taste.  When  but  sixteen  he  went  to  New  York 
and  there  spent  part  of  the  year  in  company  with  an  old- 
er brother,  George,  who  was  there  engaged  in  business. 
This  instilled  into  his  spirit  a sort  of  independence  which 
afterwards  characterized  him.  He  would  never  be  willing 
to  follow  in  any  path  simply  because  some  one  had  preced- 
him,  but  was  determined  to  cut  out  a way  of  his  own. 
He  again  entered  the  Academy  at  Fairfield,  but  as  before, 
being  inclined  to  be  wild,  as  some  said,  he  made  little 
progress  in  his  studies. 

. Again  another  project  entered  his  mind  and  he  decided 
to  go  to  Minnesota  where  Sister  Mary  was  at  that  time 
living.  She  had  always  shown  a great  liking  to  Clarke 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  Oi' 


4 

when  hut  a little  hoy  and  had  always  petted  him.  I be- 
lieve that  he  was  eighteen  when  he  started.  When  he  ar- 
rived there  he  found  her  heal th  to  be  very  poor,  the  con- 
sequence of  many  trials  and  vicissitudes.  This  decided 
him  to  remain  with  her  ; for  he  saw  that  she  was  rapidly 
declining.  He  was  the  only  one  of  our  family  with  her 
at  her  death.  Oh  ! that  was  a sad  hour  for  him,  as  he 
stood  by  her  bed-side  and  saw  the  life-tide  slowly  ebbing 
away,  as  he  knew  that  she  must  soon  die,  and  that  too 
far  away  from  kindred  ties  ; that  she  who  had  ever  been 
to  him  such  a dear  sister,  would  soon  leave  him  alone  to 
contend  with  the  hard  fortunes  of  life.  So  young  as  he 
was,  how  could  it  otherwise  than  have  made  an  impression 
upon  his  pliant  nature  that  no  lapse  of  time  could  ever 
efface. 

He  alone,  of  all  our  kindred,  stood  by  her  grave  and 
saw  her  dear  form,  clothed  with  the  cerements  ot  death, 
silently  committed  to  the  dust  ; and  saw  the  cold  clod 
cover  her  from  our  sight  forever.  But,  methinks,  amid 
all  his  sorrow  at  the  seeming  cruel  dispensation,  he  saw 
in  it  the  hand  of  God  taking  from  her  shoulders  the 
grievous  burdens  she  had  always  borne  ; placing  upon 
her  head  the  crown  of  victory  ; and  instead  of  a sorrow- 
ing, heart-broken  woman,  as  she  was  here  upon  earth,  to 
thake  her  an  angel  in  heaven.  This  I think  was  the  turn- 
ing point  in  his  life. 

Soon  he  returned  home  and  pursued  his  studies  with  a 
vigor  that  surprised  us  all.  All  he  needed  was  encourage- 
ment. We  gave  it  him  and  soon  he  received  the  appro- 
bation and  well  wishes  of  Faculty  and  Schoolmates.  As 
a writer,  his  style  was  one  that  would  be  liable  to  criti- 
cism by  the  majority  of  critics,  but  was  a true  type  of 
himself — poetical,  impetuous  and  whole-souled.  He  was 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE 


5 

for  the  people  ; yet  was  not  afraid  of  popular  disapproval. 
In  his  class  he  took  an  honorable  position  as  a scholar  and 
a friend,  and  never  lost  it  during  all  his  stay.  He  was 
not  a quick  student,  but  a thorough  one.  In  the  Sum- 
mer of  1862  he  finished  his  course  in  the  Academy  and 
was  prepared  to  enter  and  take  a good  stand  in  College. 
But  the  country  called  for  more  men  to  fill  up  the  deci- 
mated ranks  of  the  war-worn  veterans  who  had  enlisted 
at  the  beginning  of  the  struggle  and  had  already  borne 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  He  heard  the  call  and 
knew  that  his  time  had  come.  He  enlisted  as  a private 
in  Co.  C,  121st  N.  Y.  Yols.  His  friends  would  willingly 
and  gladly  have  assisted  him  in  gaining  a more  lucrative 
and  less  burdensome  position  ; but  no  : he  did  not  ask 
it.  All  he  asked  was  for  a place  in  which  he  might  serve 
his  country,  in  her  trying  hour,  waiting  for  promotion 
and  emolument  until  merit  should  give  them  to  him.  In 
his  company  were  many  of  his  schoolmates  who  had  made 
sacrifices  equally  as  great  as  himself.  But  a few  of  them 
are  left.  Wilbur  Lamberson,  and  Lieut.  Cameron, 
Capt.  Arnold  and  Fred.  Ford,  and  a host  of  others, 
just  as  brave,  have  all  gone  to  lead  the  way,  and  but  a 
few  short  months  ago  Clarke,  our  hope  and  our  pride, 
sheathed  his  sword,  laid  away  his  knapsack  and  wrapped 
in  the  colors  of  his  country  followed  after  them,  and  was 
mustered  into  the  immortal  army  above.  We  knew  noth- 
ing of  his  illness  until  the  nineteenth  of  September, 
1863,  we  received  a despatch  from  Washington  saying 
that  Clarke  lay  sick  at  the  Seminary  Hospital,  Geoige- 
town.  Oh  ! how  we  hoped  and  prayed  that  his  illness 
might  not  be  fatal,  yet  feared  the  worst.  Brother  Elea- 
zer  started  upon  the  sad  journey  of  visiting  him  anq 
tending  to  his  wants,  within  a few  hours  ; and  our  dear 
mother  was  prepared  at  any  moment  to  go  to  meet  him. 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


6 

Meanwhile  we  waited  with  anxious  and  heavy  hearts  to 
learn  his  fate,  whether  better  or  worse.  We  received  no 
intimation  of  Clarke’s  situation  until  the  Monday  follow- 
ing, which  confirmed  all  our  fears.  What  bitter  grief  did 
those  few  words  convey  to  our  souls  : 

“ Clarke  is  dead  ; I shall  he  at  Little  Falls  with  his 
remains  upon  Tuesday. 

Eleazer  C.  Rice.” 

He,  Eleazer,  had  arrived  at  Georgetown  upon  Sunday, 
but  it  was  too  late  to  receive  his  dying  wish.  Typhoid 
fever  had  consummated  its  end, — Clarke  had  died  nearly 
twenty-four  hours  before,  attended  only  by  the  hospital 
nurse,  a good,  kind,  motherly  soul.  May  God  bless  Irel- 
and repay  her  for  her  tender  care  of  him,  when  far  away 
from  friends  she  watched  by  his  bedside  and  administered 
to  each  want  and  desire.  Oh  ! America  may  feel  proud 
of  her  women,  as  they  stand  by  the  bedside  of  Union 
soldiers’  in  the  dying  hour. 

Clarke’s  body  had  already  been  clothed  in  the  cere- 
ments of  the  grave  and  was  about  to  be  buried  with  mili- 
tary honors.  The  band  was  just  playing  the  solemn  dirge, 
the  soldiers  were  drawn  up  in  order  to  convey  his  ashes  to 
the  cemetery,  and  to  give  the  last  sad  farewell  to  their 
brother  soldier  ; the  hearse  was  upon  its  way  up  the 
street  ; and  everything  was  just  in  readiness  to  bury  the 

Brother  Eleazer  had  his  body  embalmed,  and  soon 
started  upon  his  sad  journey.  We  waited  anxiously  Tues- 
day for  his  arrival,  but  he  did  not  come.  Again,  upon 
Wednesday,  we  waited  with  sad  and  anxious  hearts,  but 
again  we  were  disappointed.  Upon  Thursday  afternoon 
he  came  and  we  took  Clarke’s  remains  to  our  home  that 
night  to  keep  them  for  burial  the  next  day.  Here  I will 
insert  the  letter  of  W.  Ii.  P.,  one  of  Clarke’s  dearest 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE.  7 

friends  and  one  who,  in  our  saddest  hour,  rendered  the 
most  efficient  and  kindly  aid.  This  letter  was  written  to 
the  Herkimer  County  Journal  of  Sept.  1st,  1S63. 
Also  I will  insert  in  connection  with  this,  the  Eesolutions 
passed  by  the  Calliopean  Society  of  Fairfield  Academy, 
of  which  Clarke  was  an  active  member. 

CORRESPONDENCE. 


Fairfield,  September  28.  1863. 

Me.  -Editor  : — 

Dear  Sir — It  becomes  our  duty  at  times  to  lay  aside  the  business  or 
pleasures  of  life  to  attend  to  more  sacred  obligations  and  to  allow  the 
affections  to  assert  their  sway  over  our  actions.  Such  is  the  feeling  in 
our  community  caused  by  the  early  loss  of  Lieut.  A.  Clarice  Rice,  who 
died  of  fever  in  the  Georgetown  hospital,  Saturday,  Sept.  19, 1863,  whose 
death  you  have  already  noticed. 

The  news  of  his  death  came  not  like  the  fall  'of  the  sturdy  oak  at  the 
woodman’s  resounding'  stroke,  anticipated  and  looked  for,  but  like  the 
fall  of  the  towering  pine,  rent  by  lightning’s  shivering  blow,  unexpected 
and  instantaneous.  To  many  the  first  intelligence  of  his  sickness  came 
with  the  solemn  toll  of  the  church  bell  on  Monday  afternoon,  announc- 
ing the  sad  tidings  of  his  early  doom. 

Words  can  scarcely  portray  the  sadness  depicted  on  the  countenance, 
as  each  heard  the  startling,  unwelcome  announcement.  Sadness  filled 
the  breast  of  every  one  in  his  circle  of  acquaintance,  though  it  was  so 
hard  to  realize  his  death  that  at  first  incredulity  of  its  truth  stamped 
itself  on  the  mind  to  give  way  to  the  sad  certainty  of  authority.  So  hard 
it  is  to  believe  that  which  we  would  not. 

On  Tuesday,  preparations  having  been  made,  his  father  and  family, 
accompanied  by  citizens  and  delegations  from  the  two  Societies  of  the 
Seminary,  went  to  the  Rail  Road  to  meet  bis  remains,  but  were  disap- 
pointed in  their  coming.  Again  on  Thursday,  delegations  from  the  two 
Societies  took  their  way  to  Little  Falls,  and  this  time  met  his  lifeless  body 
to  bear  it  to  bis  parents,  bis  brothers  and  sisters,  bis  nearer  and  more 
distant  relatives  and  bis  friends— a sad  duty  truly,  and  one  long  to  be 
remembered. 

Arriving  here,  bis  coffin  was  taken  into  the  house,  and  while  the  bear- 
ers, delegations  and  friends  who  had  gathered  at  his  coming  were  being- 
dismissed,  the  deep  silence  that  rested  down  upon  the  sorrow  stricken 
family  pervaded  the  mind  and  hearts  of  all  who  -beheld  them  in  their 


8 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


bereavement.  It  was  a sorrow,  strong  and  deep  and  tender,  that  needed 
no  words  to  express  its  heartrending  agony,  its  soul-stirring  anguish. 

On  Friday,  though  the  day  was  most  unpleasant,  a large  concourse  of 
friends  gathered  at  the  house  and  forming  in  procession,  proceeded  to  the 
Church  where,  accompanied  by  appropriate  exercises,  the  Rev.  L.  Meri- 
deth  preached  a discourse  abounding  in  good  thoughts  and  feelings, 
many  parts  of  which  will  long  be  remembered,  from  Psalms  X.  14  “Thou 
hast  seen  it,  for  thou  beholdest  mischief  and  spite  to  requite  it  with  thy 
hand  ; the  poor  committeth  himself  unto  thee.” 

After  the  religious  exercises  he  was  taken  to  the  burying  ground  and 
lowered  to  his  final  resting  place,  the  narrow  house  in  that  oity  from 
which  none  over  emigrate. 

And  thus  closes  the  career  of  one  of  the  most  noble,  generous,  patriotic 
and  gifted  young  men  of  this  section  of  the  country.  But  little  more 
than  a year  since  he  stood  in  his  place  as  student,  friend,  brother,  son — 
one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of  school  and  community  ; but  impelled 
by  the  love  of  country,  he  joined  the  121st  Regiment  to  go  and 
battle  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union  and  nationality. 

Long  had  he  stood  the  first  writer  and  speaker  of  the  school,  carrying 
the  minds  of  the  audience  to  the  highest  flights  of  imagination  or  through 
the  depths  of  profounder  research ; again  he  would  lead  them  with  hurried 
tread  over  wastes  of  stony  facts  ; anon  he  would  bask  with  them  in  the 
sunlight  of  beautiful  and  gorgous  imagery,  but  never  wearying  or  un- 
interesting, 

At  the  time  of  his  enlistment  he  was  prepared  to  enter  an  advanced 
standing  in  College,  but  he  renounced  all,  and  in  the  army  became  a 
soldier,  feeling  it  his  duty  to  give  up  his  individuality  for  the  general 
good.  One'of  the  bravest  among  the  brave,  he  was  fast  winning  his  way 
upward.  He  had  escaped  through  the  battles  in  which  his  Regiment 
had  been  engaged,  and  after  the  one  before  Fredericksburgh  we  bad 
dared  to  hope  that  he  might  be  spared  to  return,  and  after  the  war  was 
over,  to  gladden  the  walks  of  private  life.  But  it  was  decreed  otherwise 
by  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well.  In  His  own  good  time  He  called  him 
home,  “trusting  in  his  mother’s  Saviour”  and  though  we  grieve  to  know 
that  we  have  lost  so  much  in  worth,  goodness  and  humanity,  there  come 
the  sweet  dews  of  consolation  in  the  thought,  that  our  loss  is  his  great 
gain.  Very  truly  yours, 

P. 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


At  a special  meeting  of  the  Calliopean  Society,  of  Fairfield  Seminary, 
held  Tuesday  evening,  September  22,  1863,  the  following  preamble  and 
resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted: 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE  9 

Whereas,  It  has  pleased  an  All  wise  Providence  to  remove  hy  death  from 
among  our  numbers,  Lieut.  Clarke  A.  Rice,  therefore  he  it 

Resolved',  That  while  we  bow  in  submission  to  the  will  of  the  most 
High,  we  unite  with  his  many  friends  in  paying  the  last  sad  offices  of  the 
living  to  the  dead  and  unite  with  them  in  mourning  for  the  departed. 

Resolved,  That  in  him  the  country  lost,  one  of  her  noblest  soldiers  ; 
the  world  one  of  her  brightest  promises  ; freedom  one  of  her  truest 
friends,  and  truth  and  right  one  of  their  firmest  champions. 

Resolved,  That  as  a member  of  our  Society,  he  was  respected  for  those 
qualities  which  most  adorn  social  and  intellectual  intercourse,  ever  giv- 
ing his  influence  on  the  side  of  virtue,  and  entertaining  for  nearly  six 
years  an  unabated  friendship  with  all  its  members. 

Resolved,  That  while  the  Society  deeply- feel  their  loss,  it  is  abated  by 
the  knowledge  of  his  entire  devotion  to  the  cause  for  which  he  left  us 
and  became  a willing  sacrifice. 

Resolved,  That  though  we  feel  that  no  words  of  ours  can  bring  conso- 
lation to  the  friends  and  relatives  of  the  departed,  still  we  deem  it  our 
duty  to  express  our  sympathy  for  them  in  their  sorrow  and  unite  with 
in  dropping  a tear  to  his  memory. 

Resolved,  That  these  resolutions  be  published  and  a copy  be  sent  to 
the  parents  of  the  departed. 

J.  B.  ROOT,  ) n 
AV.  H.  POWELL.  \ CoMMITTEE‘ 
If.  CHRISTIE,  President. 

G.  K.  Diefendorf,  Secy. 

Amid  all  our  grief  at  losing’  Clarke  there  came  a great 
source  of  consolation  in  knowing  that  his  body  could  he 
buried  where  we  could  visit  and  shed  the  tears  of  sorrow 
upon  the  little  mound  that  covered  him  from  our  sight. 
No  one  hut  those  who  have  lost  friends  in  this  grand 
struggle  for  the  Eight  can  know  the  satisfaction  it  is  to 
see  even  the  dead  body  of  the  dear  one  and  to  know  that 
it  receives  a decent  burial,  when  so  many  of  our  noblest 
brethren  are  fighting  and  dying,  and  are  buried,  no  one 
knows  where,  or  perhaps  are  left  without  burial  to  bleach 
upon  some  Southern  plain.  Oh  ! what  anguish  such 
news  has  conveyed  to  many  a mother’s  broken  heart  ! 

I shall  never  forget  how  pleasant  and  cheerful  it  seem- 
ed to  us  all  that  night  after  the  arrival  of  Eleazer.  And 
when  we  opened  the  coffin  and  saw  Clarke,  cold  and 
dead,  yet  natural  as  life,  although  our  hearts  ached  and 
2 


10 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


throbbed  with  the  most  painful  emotions,  yet  we  felt  it  in 
our  hearts  to  praise  and  thank  God  who  in  His  infinite 
kindness  had  restored  him  to  us — silent  and  stiff  in 
death,  yet  so  life  like.  It  seemed  as  though  he  was 
with  us  once  again  and  that  we  could  almost  talk  with 
him  as  of  yore.  It  may  seem  incredible  to  others,  and  it 
may  have  been  entirely  the  work  of  imagination  on  our 
part,  but  it  seemed  to  us  all,  that  after  opening  the  coffin 
a smile  overspread  his  countenance,  so  grateful,  so  life- 
like that  it  seemed  as  if  he  was  glad  to  get  home 
again.  The  next  day,  (Friday)  the  25th  of  September, 
1863,  we  buried  him.  It  was  a dark,  cold  day,  and  the 
rain  poured  in  torrents  almost,  as  we  lowered  him  into 
the  damp  ground.  But,  notwithstanding  the  rain,  the 
citizens  of  the  good  old  town  did  everything  in  their  power 
to  show  the  respect  .they  felt  for  Clarke.  We  went 
home  after  the  burial  with  sad,  aching  hearts.  It  seem- 
ed so  cruel  to  leave  him  there  all  alone,  beneath  the  cold 
sod.  But  we  bowed  to  the  will  of  God  and  felt  to  thank 
Him  that  Clarke's  remains  had  never  been  interred  be- 
neath Rebel  soil. 

Clarke,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  held  the  commission 
of  1st  Lieutenant,  Commanding  Co.  F,  the  Company 
formerly  commanded  by  Capt.  Wendell,  who  nobly  fell 
at  Chancellorville.  The  fact  that  Clarke  had  enlisted 
as  a private,  and  during  such  a short  time  had  risen  to 
the  position  he  held,  was  a testimonial  of  his  strict  per- 
formance of  duty.  His  illness  before  removal  to  Wash- 
ington was  short  and  was  not  at  first'  considered  to  be 

O 

dangerous.  It  adds  very  much  to  our  grief  to  know  that 
his  recovery  would  have  been  almost  certain,  could  he  have 
remained  quiet ; but  such  is  the  inflexibility  of  war.  We 
will  insert  below  the  letter  of  Cousin  Ward  Rice,  and 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE.  H 

also  one  from  Dr.  Holt,  Surgeon  of  the  121st,  which  we 
received  soon  after  Clarke’s  burial. 

Camp  of  the  121st  N.  Y.  Yols.,  Sept.  23,  1863. 
Mr.  Thomas  A.  Rice  : — 

Dear  Sir — I presume  you  have  heard,  ere  this,  that  your  son,  Lieut. 
A.  C.  Rice,  was  taken  sick  while  the  Regiment  was  at  New  Baltimore, 
and  was  taken  to  the  Regimental  Hospital.  When  we  were  ordered  away 
from  there,  Clarice  was  placed  in  the  ambulance  and  taken  to  Warren- 
ton.  From  there  he  was  sent  to  Washington.  He  was  quite  sick  at  that 
time.  Since  then  we  have  heard  nothing  from  him.  save  a notice  of  his 
death  in  the  Washington  Chronicle,  which  I will  send  to  you.  The 
initials  are  the  same  as  Clarke’s  ; no  rank  is  given  ; the  number  of  the 
regiment  the  same,  except  that  it  is  U.  S.  Hoping  that  this  is  a mistake, 
yet  fearing  for  the  worst,  1 thought  it  my  duty  to  let  you  know  our  fears. 
Hoping  to  hear  from  you  soon  I remain  your  sympathizing  friend, 

Sergt.  W.  WARD  RICE. 

Immediately  after  Ularke’s  death  I wrote  to  Dr.  Holt, 
inquiring  into  the  nature  of  his  illness  before  his  removal 
to  Georgetown.  I give  his  reply  : — 

In  Camp  on  the  Rapidan,  Va.,  > 
October  8th,  1863.  5 

Dear  Sir — Your  letter  of  the  28th  ult.  has  been  received,  and  should 
have  commanded  earlier  attention,  hut  for  the  fact  of  our  almost  constant 
moving  and  changing  position,  since  its  reception. 

I must  necessarily  he  very  brief  in  reply  to  your  interrogations,  as  we 
again  change  position  to  morrow  ; but  will,  as  soonas  we  come  to  a halt, 
inform  you  fully  all  I know  or  can  learn  in  relation  to  your  late  brother. 

You  ask  in  relation  to  his  illness ; how  he  was  conveyed  to  George- 
town, and  if  during  his  sickness  in  tlie  Regiment,  he  expressed  any  de- 
sire or  request  to  he  made  to  you  ; and  also  as  to  his  personal  effects,  &c. 

In  answer  I would  say  that,  when  he  left  the  regiment  for  the  General 
Hospital,  he  was  not  in  a condition  considered  alarming,  and  was  only 
removed  because  the  army  was  about  to  move,  and  consequently  could 
not  receive  the  treatment  at  our  hands  which  his  case  demanded.  He 
was  taken  with  simple  bilious  remittant  fever  and  for  the  four  or  five 
days  he  was  under  our  care,  every  symptom  appeared  to  he  better.  He 
was  in  Regimental  Hospital  only  two  days,  the  rest  of  the  time  being 
treated  in  quarters.  He  was  conveyed  by  ambulance  to  New  Baltimore, 
when  he  took  the  Rail  Road  to  Georgetown.  This  journey  was  the 
probable  cause  of  his  death  ; it  being  more  than  the  system  could  endure. 


12 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


Had  lie  remained  under  our  care  in  quietude,  I have  not  the  least  douht 
as  to  his  recovery  ; hut  when  the  army  moves  all  sick  must  also  move  ; 
hence  many  deaths  which  would  not  otherwise  occur. 

He  expressed  no  wish  or  desire  to  have  anything  said  to  his  friends  as  I 
think  with  myself  ; he  never  even  thought  of  the  probability  of  a fatal 
issue.  * * * * In  the  meantime  I await  your  orders.  I will  do  all 

in  my  power  to  aid  you,  and  deeply  deplore  the  sad  and  mournful  end  of 
•pne,  who  had  bound  himself  to  my  heart  by  many  a tender  cord. 

Very  Respectfully,  Your  Ob’t  Serv’t,. 

DANIEL  M.  HOLT, 

Ass’t  Surgeon,  121st  N.  Y.  V. 

At  about  this  same  time  we  received  a letter  from  Col. 
Upton,  who  had  always  taken  a great  interest  in  Clarke, 
and  had  always  recognized  his  merit  and  encouraged  him 
to  all  laudable  ambition.  Clarke  always  spoke  of  Col. 
TJpton  not  only  as  the  “bravest  officer  he  ever  saw,”  but 
also  as  a noble  man  and  a dear  friend. 

We  regret  to  say  that  by  some  negligence  the  letter  of 
the  Colonel  has  been  lost.  It  was  full  of  sympathy  at  our 
loss  as  well  as  sorrow  for  his  own  ; saying  that  Clarke, 
while  he  was  one  ot  the  best  officers  in  the  line,  had  en- 
deared himself  to  superiors  and  men  by  strict  adherence 
to  duty,  as  well  as  by  many  kind  and  unselfish  acts. — 
There  was  such  an  honesty  in  all  Clarke’s  actions  that, 
although  he  might  be  in  tbe  wrong,  a person  could  not 
help  to  admire,  respect  and  love  him.  Perhaps  I had  a 
chance  to  know  his  inmost  feelings,  desires  and  purposes 
as  well  as  any  other  one  of  our  family.  He  had  a soul 
that  despised  a small,  mean  act,  that  hated  sham  aristo- 
crcy,  that  loved  humanity,  that  would  spurn  to  truckle 
or  frown  at  the  feet  of  any  superior  human  power,  that 
made  him  ashamed  to  shirk  his  duty,  that  impelled  him 
to  ask  no  more  of  others  than  he  was  willing  to  do  him- 
self in  like  circumstances.  Actuated  by  such  a spirit  as 
this  in  his  intercourse  with  men,  he  could  not  be  other- 
wise than  a faithful  soldier,  a kind  officer  and  a firm 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


13 


frieiid.  This  spirit  that  made  him  successful  in  the  army, 
would,  had  ‘lie  lived,  have  made  him  successful  in  the 
private  walks  of  life. 

Shortly  after  Clarke’s  death  that  kind,  noble  woman 
who  had  watched  him  through  all  his  sickness  and  had 
received  his  last  dying  breath,  wrote  a letter  to  our  mother 
concerning  the  manner  of  Clarke’s  death  and  also  some- 
thing of  his  previous  illness. 

Here  is  a portion  of  it  : — 

Georgetown,  September  28th.,  1863. 

My  Dear  Friend — I feel  it  my  duty  to  write  a line  to  you.  Your 
son  was  sick  in  my  ward.  He  was  very  sick  all  tbe  time  after  he  was 
brought  here.  His  head  seemed  to  be  very  much  affected,  and  he  was 
too  sick  to  talk  much.  The  Chaplain  saw  him  several  times,  and  talked 
and  prayed  with  him.  He  said  “his  mother’s  Saviour  was  his  Saviour.” 
He  asked  him  if  he  wanted  to  see  his  mother.  He  replied  that  he  hSd 
seen  her  since  he  was  sick.  One  night,  about  one  o’clock,  I had  been 
bathing  him,  and  he  looked  up  and  called  me  “Mother.”  Oh!  I wish 
you  could  have  seen  him  before  he  died  ! I kissed  him  forh  is  father  and 
mother,  and  1 trust  that  “Your  loss  is  his  gain.”  It  is  hard  to  lose 
friends  far  away  from  home,  but  if  they  are  prepared  to  die,  that  is  the 
great  thing.  Oh  ! what  a delightful  thought  if  we  have  a hope  in  the 
Savior,  and  Dear  Friend,  I trust  you  have  that  hope  to  sustain  you  in 
all  youi®  sorrows.  “He  can  all  our  sorrows  heal.”  If  we  trust  in  him  he 
will  never  leave,  nor  forsake  us.  I long  to  see  this  war  brought  to  a ciose, 
I have  passed  through  some  very  trying  scenes  since  I have  been  here, 
some  that  I shall  never  forget,  while  memory  lasts.  I have  been  here 
almost  two  years,  taking  care  of  the  sick  and  wounded  soldiers.  Many 
I have  parted  with  never  to  meet  again,  until  we  meet  at  the  bar  of  God. 

1 earnestly  pray  God  to  make  me  more  faithful,  as  I shall  wish  I had 
been  when  I come  to  die. 

Now,  Dear  Friend,  please  excuse  me  for  writing,  and  forgive  all  mis- 
takes. Will  you  please  answer  this,  if  you  get  it  1 _ 

MISS  REBECCA  W1SWELL, 
Seminary  Hospital,  Georgetown,  D.  C. 

It  was  one  of  the  greatest  sources  of  consolation  to  us, 
to  know  that  Clarke  had  received  such  tender  care  at 
the  hands  of  this  kind  nurse  in  his  dying  hour.  May  God 


14  LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 

bless  her  and  all  that  band  of  noble  women  who  are  tak- 
ing the  places  of  mothers,  sisters  and  wives,  by  the  bed- 
sides of  our  sick  and  wounded  soldiers,  who  are  filling 
our  hospitals  to-day. 

The  following  short  paragraph  in  regard  to  Clarke’s 
death,  appeared  in  the  Herkimer  County  Journal, 
Sept.  24,  1863. 

A Sad  Bereavement. — The  friends  and  relatives  of  Lieut.  A.  Clarke 
Rice,  of  the  121st  N.  Y.  V..  in  Fairfield,  were  startled  last  Friday  by  a 
telegram  announcing  his  severe  illness.  His  brother,  Eleazer  C.  Rice, 
immediately  started  for  Washington,  hut  a subsequent  dispatch  announc- 
ed his  brother’s  death,  which  occurred,  we  hear,  of  fever,  after  a short 
illness,  on  Sunday  morning.  The  body  was  expected  here  yesterday,  but 
a telegram  was  received  stating  that  it  would  not  reach  here  till  to-day. 

Lieut.  Rice  was.  we  believe,  23  years  of  age,  and  was  known  as  one 
of  the  most  promising,  most  virtuous,  and  most  esteemed  young  men  of 
Fairfield.  For  several  years  a student  of  Fairfield  Seminary,  he  mani- 
fested a proficiency  in  his  studies  which  marked  him  as  a student  of 
superior  ability  and  talents.  A bright  future  for  him  was  expected  by 
all  who  possessed  his  acquaintance — who  shall  say  how  fondly  by  par- 
ents and  friends  by  whom  he  was  beloved  as  the  hope  and  the  pride  of 
their  glowing-  anticipations  1 But  the  call  of  his  country  demanded  his 
services  and  they  were  given  freely.  In  company  with  several  of  his 
school-day  comrades,  many  of  whom  have  gone  to  a soldier’s  restihg 
place  before  him,  he  left  his  home  and  studies  for  the  tented  field.  No 
eulogy  can  fitly  pronounce  his  virtues.-  no  tongue  describe  the  fervor  of 
that  patriotism  which  bore  him  away  to  deadly  strife,  to  wearisome 
fatigue,  to  wasting  disease — to  death. 

When  near  and  dear  friends  pass  away,  we  cherish 
every  little  keep-sake  which  they  have  left  behind,  with 
a love  deeper  than  that  which  prompts  the  miser  to  hoard 
his  “filthy  lucre”  in  the  strong  chest.  Everything  they 
have  possessed,  everything  they  have  worn,  everything 
they  have  wrought,  or  had  their  hands  upon,  seems  to  us 
to  have  a thousand  tongues  ; and  each  tongue,  to  relate  a 
thousand  little  incidents  of  their  lives.  And  if  there  is 
something  in  which  they  particularly  excelled,  or  toward 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RTCE. 


15 

which  their  minds  were  especially  prone,  that  excellence 
or  that  special  quality,  we  like  to  bring  up  before  our 
minds,  and  to  dwell  upon  it,  with  ten-fold  delight.  So, 
when  we  mourned  at  Clarke’s  death,  this  consolation  in 
a measure  soothed  our  afflicted  feelings  : that  although 
he  had  gone  from  us  forever  ;•  although  we  should  never 
hear  his  voice  again  ; although  he  had  died  in  a distant 
hospital  with  none  of  us  to  watch  over  him  and  to  hear 
his  last  farewell  ; yet  he  has  left  us  a legacy  more  precious 
than  gold,  more  enduring  than  riches — a legacy  of  thoughts 
and  words  ; words  that  we  have  heard  him  utter  ; and 
words  that  he  has  penned  to  us  from  afar  off,  upon  the 
beautiful  banks  of  the  Potomac,  and  the  balmy  shores  of 
the  Rappahannock.  Neither  have  his  manly,  generous 
deeds  been  few  in  the  days  of  yore,  the  remembrance  of 
which  stirs  up  .many  a sad  emotion  in  our  hearts.  We 
loved  him  not,  because  he  was  our  brother  simp'y  ; hut 
we  loved  him  for  the  manly  generosity  of  his  nature  and 
his  spirit  of  self-sacrifice.  We  loved  him  not  simply  Tie- 
cause  the  same  blood  flowed  in  our  veins,  hut  because  he 
had  those  qualities  which  compelled  all  who  knew  him  to 
admire.  Consanguinity  of  blood  may  bring  a sort  of 
liking,  hut  it  cannot  bring  that  deep,  abiding  affection 
which  a true  father  or  mother  will  bear  to  a noble  son. 
You  have  all  seen  men  whom  the  world  called  brothers  ; 
yet  they  were  no  more  brothers  than  as  if  they  had  been 
strangers  through  all  their  lives.  Our  love  for  Clarke 
was  the  growth  of  a long  contemplation  of  the  manliness 
of  his  nature.  In  all  my  intercourse  with  him  I never 
knew  him  to  commit  a mean  act.  And  if  he  did  some- 
times err,  (as  we  all  do  too  often,)  it  was  not  the  effect  of 
a low  and  grovelling  disposition, hut  rather  of  his  warm  and 
ardent  temperament,  which  sometimes  perhaps  overcame 
his  will  and  led  him  to  do  those  things  of  which  after- 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


16 

wards  lie  would  repent.  But  if  we  loved  him  in  the  quiet 
days  of  peace,  when  together  we  plodded  along  in  the 
highway  of  life,  how  much  more  did  we  respect  and 
admire  him,  when  throwing  aside  all  his  bright  prospects 
for  the  future,  (which  were  not  few,)  he  enlisted  as  a 
private  to  suffer  and  light  for  his  country  and  his  country’s 
honor  ! Then,  indeed,  he  crowned  his  previous  bright 
career  with  the  most  manly  act  of  all  ; and  in  devotion 
to  his  patriotism  offered  up  his  life.  Have  we  not,  then, 
amid  all  our  sorrow,  reason  for  rejoicing  P Let  us  think 
of  Clarke  as  not  having  lived  in  vain  ; for  his  life,  t hought 
short  was  full  of  kind  and  noble  words  spoken,  and  praise- 
worthy actions.  As  you  read  his  letters  and  other  writ- 
ings, think  that  for  this  same  patriotism,  for  this  same 
love  of  humanity,  for  this  same  devotion  to  Liberty  and 
Union  for  which  he  spoke  so  many  noble  words,  he  under- 
went the  hardships  of  the  camp  and  field,  endured  the 
summer’s  heat  and  the  winter’s  cold,  the  long  dusty  march, 
with  nothing  at  night  to  cover  him  from  the  dews  and 
the  frosts,  and  the  storms,  and  finally  offered  up  his  life 
without  a murmur,  whispering  with  his  last  breath, 
“Mother!  Mother.”  Never  desponding,  never  discourag- 
ed, he  was  always  full  of  hope,  and  promising  a bright 
future  for  the  coutry.  Ids  was  so  abounding  with  the 
imaginative  that  he  never  looked  at  the  dark  side  of  the 
picture.  He  believed  that  the  cause  for  which  he  fought 
was  right  and  hence  must  prevail.  And  amid  all  his 
privations,  amid  all  the  wearisomeness  of  the  march,  he 
never  complained  nor  faltered,  never  abated  his  patriotism 
nor  murmured  at  his  lot  ; but  always  felt  proud  that  he 
was  an  American  Soldier.  In  one  of  his  letters  ’ o me 
after  his  visit  home,  while  on  his  way  to  the  Regiment, 
he  spoke  of  his  visit  to  the  National  Cap;tol.  He  says, 
“I  think  it  was  the  proudest  moment  of  my  life  as  I stood 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


17 

in  Legislative  Hall,  not  as  a legislator,  sent  there  by  the 
voice  of  the  people,  hut  as  an  American  Soldier.”  This 
was  indeed  a noble  pride  and  well  worthy  of  him.  Thus 
he  was  during  all  the  time  of  his  t-ervice  in  the  army, 
never  indulging  in  forebodings  but  always  hoping,  trust- 
ing. I believe  that  he  enlisted  from  a sense  of  duty,  not 
rushing  blindly  into  it,  but  with  his  eyes  open,  impelled 
by  a love  of  country  that  no  selfish  love  of  ease  could 
overcome,  knowing  full  well  that  he  would  have  to  suffer 
and  endure  hardships  hitherto  unknown.  He  knew  that 
the  war  wras  no  playing  spell,  but  a sad  reality  ; and, 
although,  as  all  do,  he  hoped  that  he  might  be  spared, 
yet  he  knew  that  many,  many  brave  boys  must  fall. — 
Therefore,  when  privations  and  hardships  come,  he  met 
them  with  a heart  prepared  by  a consciousness  of  being 
in  the  way  of  duty.  ■ A hireling  soldier  may,  by  being  in 
contact  with  those  who  are  drilled,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances perform  his  duties  as  well  as  one  who  is  impelled 
by  patriotism  ; but  when  hardships  come,  when  the  issue 
of  the  contest  depends  upon  their  firmness  and  bravery, 
being  actuated  by  no  moral  principle,  and  caring  little  for 
his  honor,  he  will  shirk  his  duty,  give  way  to  cowardice 
and  see  his  comrades  shot  down’ by  his  side  without  feel- 
ing a single  impulse  to  assist  them  in  the  hour  which  calls 
loudest  for  every  man  to  stand  to  his  post.  These  are 
the  ones  who  fill  the  land  with  their  complaints  of  unjust 
and  hard  treatment,  yet  prate  loudest  of  their  achieve- 
ments. A nation  which  places  hirelings  and  conscripts 
as  the  upholders  of  its  honor  and  dignity  against  an 
enemy,  relying  upon  the  justice  of  its  cause  and  the 
patriotism  of  its  soldiers,  will  shed  its  blood  in  vain  ; for 
“God  is  not  on  the  side  of  the  largest  battalions,”  but 
upon  the  side  of  Right  and  Civilization.  I need  not  prove 
this  ; God,  speaking  in  tones  of  warning  through  the  his- 


/ 


18  LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OP 

toiy  of  fallen  nations  and  ambitious  yet  unprincipled 
conquerors  overthrown,  has  proclaimed  it.  This  nation 
must  feel  the  terrible  reality  of  the  war  that  is  upon  us 
and  then  she  can  consistently  ask  God  tor  assistance,  and 
receive  it,  and  not  till  then. 

Clarke,  in  his  enlistment,  proved  true  to  his  nature. 
He  might  be  in  the  wrong,  he  might  be  fanatical,  but  never 
was  he  ashamed  or  afraid  to  declare  and  sustain  his  prin- 
ciples, whatever  they  might  be.  He  was  emphatically 
not  a “modern  conservative.”  He  hated  slavery  of  every 
kind  with  all  his  heart  and  soul  before  the  war,  and  when 
it  came  upon  us,  he  saw  in  it  the  hand  of  God  laying  hold 
of  the  nation  to  lead  it  through  the  Red  Sea  of  blood  to 
the  Canaan  of  freedom  and  peace.  He  believed  in  the 
nobility  of  the  human  race,  and  in  man’s  common  brother- 
hood. He  believed  in  Republican  Government  in  all  its 
nobility,  and  so,  when  he  saw  traitors  banded  together  to 
overthrow  it,  he  buckled  on  the  armour  to  carry  out  his 
convictions  with  deeds.  He  believed  Slavery  to  be  the 
cause  ot  all  our  difficulties,  and  so,  when  he  fought  Rebels 
in  arms,  he  fought  oppression,  the  motive  power  of  the 
Rebellion,  at  the  same  time.  He  believed  that  God  ruled 
nations  as  well  as  men,  and  so  when  he  saw  the  country 
upheaved  by  this  internal  strife,  he  believed  He  was  work- 
in”'  out  His  will.  These  I believe  to  have  been  Clarke’s 
convictions  when  he  enlisted.  These  sustained  him  in  the 
hour  of  suffering — for  I do  not  think  he  had  a natural 
inclination  to  military  life.  These  heart-felt  convictions 
made  his  death  a holy  sacrifice  to  our  Country’s  liberty 
and  safety. 

It  may  be  asked  by  some,  why  we  have  published  these 
writings.  In  answer,  we  say,  for  nothing  else  but  our 
own  gratification.  We  do  not  wish  to  aggrandize  Clarke’s 
memory,  we  do  not  wish  to  say  that  he  was  actuated  by 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE.  19 

any  nobler  motives  than  a host  ot  other  brave  soldiers 
who  have  fallen  in  this  contest.  We  do  not  wish  to  say 
that  his  letters  and  other  writings  were  any  better  than 
any  one  else  could  write,  that  they  breathed  forth  any 
purer  sentiments  and  nobler  thoughts  than  pulsate  through 
the  bosom  of  every  young  man.  No — nothing  ot  this 

kind  has  impelled  us — but  Clarke’s  writings  were  pre- 
cious to  us  ; we  loved  them  almost,  as  we  did  him,  and  so 
we  have  collected  them  together  in  this  little  volume,  just 
as  he  wrote  them,  as  memorials  ot  one  we  loved  so  dearly. 
They  were  so  like  him,  such  outspoken  expressions  ot  his 
inmost  nature,  that  it  seems  as  we  read  them  that  we  are 
almost  talking  with  him.  We  care  not  what  the  critic 
would  say  about  them.  This  volume  is  not  for  his  peru- 
sal, but  if  it  shall  fall  into  the  hands  of  any  who  have 
lost  dear  friends  in  this  grand  struggle  for  the  Right,  they 
will  understand  and  know  why  we  have  made  these  writ- 
ings public. 

Now,  in  conclusion,  we  would  say  to  those  who  were 
not  bound  to  Clarke  by  any  tie  of  blood,  but  his  near 
and  dear  friends  : He  loved  you  all  kext  to  Ids  kin,  and 
no  success  which  he  might  httain  in  life  could  induce  him 
to  forget  those  he  loved.  He  has  gone  forever — never 
more  can  we  press  bis  hand  in  cordial  welcome,  but  it  in 
perusing  this  little  book  you  can  see  any  resemblance  ot 
himself  portrayed,  think  that  he  died  as  he  had  lived  and 
spoken,  a brave,  generous,  fret -heard  d friend,  who  loved 
his  friends  and  home  dearly,  but  in  devotion  to  his  country 
sacrificed  them  all,  and  finally  his  life. 

His  life  has  not  been  sacrificed  in  vain.  He  has  fallen 
in  a noble  cause.  And,  bye  and  bye,  when  our  nation 
shall  have  emerged  from  this  awful  struggle,  although 
draped  in  mourning,  and  burdened  by  debt,  the  American 
people  far  up  above  her  statesmen,  her  orators,  her  phi- 


20 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


losophers,  and  her  poets,  on  the  pillar  of  fame,  will  write 
uln  Memoriam”  and  beneath  it  in  letters  of  gold  they 
will  inscribe  the  names  of  the  patriot-soldiers,  who  fell  in 
the  great  war  of  1861. 

•'How  sleep  the  brave  who  sink  to  rest, 

Hy  all  their  country  s wishes  blest. 

When  spring  with  dewy  fingers  cold. 

Returns  to  deck  their  hallowed  mould  : 

She  there  shall  dress  a sweeter  sod, 

Than  fancy's  feet  have  ever  trod. 

By  fairy  hands  their  knell  is  rung  ; 

By  form  unseen  their  dirge  is  sung  ; 

There  Honor  comes,  a pilgrim  gray, 

To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  their  clay  ; 

And  Freedom  shall  a while  repair, 

To  dwell,  a weeping  hermit  there.” 

C.  E.  K. 

Fairfield,  September,  1864. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


21 


We  open  this  little  volume  with  an  Oration,  written  by  Clarke,  at 
Fairfield  Academy,  on 

THE  SOLDIERS  OF  TO-DAY. 


How  the  star  of  fortune  rules  the  world’s  soul-tide  with 
a rise  and'  fall  ; fluctuates  it  with  a ceaseless  ebb  and 
flow  ! How  high-hearted  hopes,  chilled  by  disappoint- 
ment’s icy  touch,  droop  like  flowers  nipped  by  the  Autumn- 
al frost  ; how  the  slumbering  fires  of  the  heart  kindle  into 
the  glow  of  enthusiasm,  as  fickle  chance  breathes  its  in- 
spiration there  ! How,  like  fallen  leaves,  the  play- 
things of  the  sporting  gale,  we,  the  weightless  leaves 
of  nature’s  life-tree,  are  swept  here  and  there,  upon  a 
thousand  current  winds  of  destiny  ! Truly  are  we  sus- 
pended by  countless  mystic  chords,  upon  which  we  cease- 
lessly vibrate  from  hope  to  fear,  from  joy  to  grief,  from 
glory  to  shame,  from  weal  to  woe.  Alas  ! life,  after  all,  is 
but  a swing  from  the  cradle  and  a drop  into  the  tomb.  As 
the  silken  canvass  of  time  slowly  moves  before  the  world’s 
great  central  show-place,  each  event  casts  its  bright  or 
sable  shadow  ; each  insect  sketches  its  own  faint  career  ; 
each  human  being  has  his  Artist-Destiny  to  paint,  his 
life-picture,  bright  or  dim  ; each  nation  to  sketch  its  his- 
toric scene,  grand  or  faint  ; all  are  mingled  shades  ot 
cheer  and  sorrow,  of  success  and  defeat,  nicely  blended  to 
form  a perfect  life  panorama.  But  time  bears  away  no 
cheerless  monotony  in  its  scenes,  no  pictures  of  unbroken 
beauty,  no  prospects  dark  that  present  no  charm, no  shad- 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


22 

ows  so  black  that  no  bright  tinges  are  scattered  here  and 
there.  There  is  exquisite  beauty  in  variety,  and  power 
in  a curve.  There  is  a soul  in  a trickling  tear,  and  heaven 
in  a cheerful  smile.  There  is  lightning  in  a glance,  and 
thunder  in  a sigh.  The  hopeful  and  courageous  stand 
proud,  like  mountain  oaks  that  never  stoop,  while  the 
children  of  despair,  bowed  in  grief,  like  weeping  willows 
droop,  and  gentle  word  will  never  cease  to  vibrate  upon 
the  world’s  heartstrings,  stirring  them  with  a harmonic 
thrill,  while  the  harsh  mandates  of  authority,  fall  unheed- 
ed, and  melt  away  upon  the  winds  like  the  sigh  of  a girl. 
There  is  no  day  so  bright  that  a solitary  cloud  never  casts 
its  shadow  down  ; no  night  so  dark  that  no  beams  of 
light  nor  a solitary  star  send  forth  their  fiery  brightness 
to  scare  away  the  dim  visaged  spectres  of  the  midnight 
hour. 

We  see  this  lesson  in  every  chapter  of  the  book  of  time, 
and  sadly  do  we  learn  it  to-day,  upon  the  open  page  of 
our  nation’s  history.  Surely  it  is  a melancholy  hour  for 
our  struggling,  alas  ! our  bleeding  country  ; a perilous 
pass  in  the  pilgrimage  of  her  National  existence.  To  the 
world’s  anxious  vision  she  presents  a spectacle  pitiable 
indeed,  as  alone,  almost  forlorn,  amid  tempest  wild,  and 
lightning  flash,  and  thunder’s  deafening  roar,  weeping' 
like  a child,  though  proud  as  the  queen  of  nations,  she 
presses  forward  in  the  path-way  of  destiny.  Well  might 
the  good  genius  of  humanity,  shed  bitter  tears  and  sigh 
heavily  as  she  beholds  her  in  distress  ; and  fear  lest,  ex- 
hausted, she  faint  amid  the  storm  ; fear  lest  her  dying 
moans  should  wail  the  requiem  of  Liberty,  and  her  toga, 
white  as  the  driven  snow,  become  the  robe  of  tyranny,  her 
history  but  a quick-told  tale,  her  remains,  like  murdered 
Poland,  should  be  the  food  of  despotism  forever,  and  her 
tomb  the  last  Mecca  of  the  world.  Dark  as  is  this  picture, 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


23 

sad  as  is  this  scene  of  our  country,  yet  there  are  features 
and  colors  in  it  as  bright  and  beautiful  and  sublime,  as 
the  finger  of  destiny  ever  traced  and  the  world  has  ever 
seen.  Survey  the  broad  sweep  of  the  world’s  history,  from 
the  morn  of  civilization  to  the  noon  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  and  find,  if  you  can,  a brighter  picture  than  that 
presented  by  the  half  million  Patriot-Soldiers,  who  have 
rallied  around  their  country  to-day,  offering  themselves 
sacrifices  for  America,  her  people  and  her  laws.  Roll  up 
the  screen  that  hides  from  our  view  the  world  of  the  past, 
and  show  us  where  or  when  another  such  a noble  band  of 
heroes  as  humanity  cried  for,  marshalled  themselves  under 
the  genius  of  Liberty,  rallied  forth  in  crusade  against  the 
legions  of  death,  and  upon  the  holy  errand  of  Charity  and 
Mercy.  When  they  saw  Liberty  writhing  in  pain  and 
bleeding  at  a hundred  pores,  they  bound  up  her  wounds. 
When  they  saw  Justice  prostrate  and  fainting  bv  the 
way-side,  they  offered  consolation  and  breathed  the  in- 
spiration of  life  into  her  fainting  form.  When  they  be- 
held our  country  bowed  in  grief  and  weeping  with  a 
broken  heart,  they  cheered  her  drooping  spirits,  with 
cheerful  word  and  noble  deed.  When  they  heard  her 
people  mourn  and  feebly  crv  for  help,  like  children  wand- 
dering in  the  storm,  they  listened  and  to  the  rescue  com- 
ing outstretched  a helping  hand.  0 ! Philahthropy  ! 
Guardian  Angel  of  the  true  ! How  deep  is  the  fountain 
life  of  thy  affections  ! 0 ! Mercy  ! Beautiful  Sister  of 

Grace  ! How  thy  generous  heart  is  moved  by  the  breath 
of  supplication  and  swells  with  tender  pity  for  the  suffer- 
ing ! 0 ! Charity  ! Prince  of  the  soul  ! what  shall  set 

bounds  to  thy  empire,  while  weakness  craves  protection 
and  innocence  pure  to  woe  is  given  ! 0 Heroism  ! Valor 
incarnate  ! Beautiful  soul  ! How  brave  is  thy  life  for 
humanity  spent  ; how  destiny  yields  to  thy  magic  touch 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


24 

and  success  twines  its  wreath  around  thy  brow.  Philan- 
thropy so  true,  Mercy  so  kind,  Charity  so  generous,  He- 
roism so  brave — each  a force  associated  in  purpose,' guard 
the  feet,  illumine  the  soul-chamber,  drive  the  heart-pulse 
and  nerve  the  arm  of  the  Patriot-Soldiers  of  to-day  ! 

When  the  war  trumpet  sounded  the  tocsin  o’er  all  the 
nation,  a night"  of  sorrow  hung  over  the  country  like  a 
sable  pall,  and  a cry  of  national  lamentation  went  up  like 
a wail  upon  the  troubled  winds.  The  band  of  treason 
had  twined  its  icy  fingers  around  the  very  heart-strings 
of  the  nation,  as  if  to  freeze  and  sunder  the  vital  chords 
of  her  existence,  and  there  was  a great  fear  that  Slavery 
had  at  last  digged  the  grave  for  the  genius  of  America. 
But  the  nation’s  life-tide  had  not  ebbed  away,  nor  its 
pulse  ceased  to  beat  in  quick  response  to  the  throb  of 
freedom’s  heart.  In  these  soldier-heroes,  to  whom  we 
delight  to  sing  praises,  and  pay  the  tribute  of  our  respect, 
there  was  a love  of  Liberty  too  warm,  too  strong  for  hope 
or  fear  to  chain  or  chill — a spirit  of  patriotism  which  trea- 
son could  neither  bribe  nor  fashion — a loyal  will  which 
fate  could  neither  break  nor  rule — a spirit  of  bravery  which 
laughed  at  fearful  danger,  and  dared  woe  to  do  its  worst. 
Though  treachery  lurked  in  secret  places,  guarded  by  the 
cohorts  of  treason,  though  conservatism,  like  a ghost  com- 
ing from  the  tomb,  was  wront.  to  chill  the  spirit  of  patriot- 
ism by  wailing  over  the  honors  of  war.  Even  though  the 
midnight  hour  seemed  to  stare  at  them  with  the  piercing 
eye  of  death,  yet  they  went  forth,  hold,  fearlessly,  God- 
like, under  the  standard  of  the  free,  with  the  smile  of 
Justice  playing  upon  every  cheek,  and  the  tire  of  Liberty 
burning  in  every  eye.  Brave  Soldiers  ! Gallant  Knights 
of  thee,  0 Liberty  ! How  Justice  smiles  at  thy  approach  ; 
how  Humanity  rejoices  at  thy  timely  coming  ; how  Lib- 
erty grows  cheerful  and  strong  in  thy  gallantry  true  ) 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


25 

how  America  boasts  of  thee  to  valor  given  ! When  did 
moral  beauty  robe  herself  in  colors  more  bright  ? When 
did  patriotism  inspire  heroes  more  brave  ? When  did 
Freedom  find  errants  more  true,  friends  more  dear  ? 
When  did  national  glory  appear  more  proud,  or  wear 
majesty  more  grand  than  in  the  Patriot-Soldier  whom 
to-day  America  is  proud  to  boast  her  own.  The  arms  of 
sis  hundred  thousand  men,  outstretched  to  snatch  thun- 
der bolts  of  death  ere  they  strike  humanity  to  the  dust  ; 
the  hearts  of  six  hundred  thousand  men  beating — beat- 
ing— beating  to  a people’s  needs  and  a country’s  call  ; 
the  lives  of  six  hundred  thousand  men  of  earth’s  noblest 
children  willingly  laid  upon  the  nation’s  altar,  as  war- 
rants of  true  devotion,  aud  a pledge  . that  America  shall 
live  forever  ! No  feudal  lord  summoned  them  to  the 
battle-field  tor  tyranny  to  fight  ; no  dream-fancy  illured 
them  in  folly’s  course  ; no  spectre  wild  of  bewildered 
brain,  no  ambition  of  military  glory,  moved  to  war  of 
conquest,  or  ill-gotten  gain  ; no  flickering  pleasure  or 
hope  of  ease  illured  them  into  the  hardships  of  a soldier’s 
life,  to  meet  a soldier’s  fickle  fate  ; no  sordid  passion 
wields  its  sceptre  over  their  souls  ; no  purposeless  aim, 
like  a wandering  star  illumines  the  pathway  to  glory  and 
to  fame.  No  ! none  of  the  base  and  groveling  motives 
touch  the  nerves  or  stir  the  life-chords  of  these  brave  men 
— citizens  of  the  tented  field.  They  endure  suffering  that 
we  may  remain  untouched  by  sacriligeous  harm.  Brave- 
- ly  they  march  through  dangers  that  we  may  be  in  safety. 
Nobly  they  fight  the  battles  of  Humanity  and  the  Right, 
that  we  may  enjoy  the  sunshine  ot  Peace.  Cheerfully 
they  crusade  against  the  legions  of  darkness,  that  our  in- 
stitutions of  learning,  the  towering  light-house,  and  the 
scattered  lights  of  the  world,  may  stand  and  radiate  for- 
ever. Fearlessly  they  war  against  the  vandal  hordes  of 
4 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


26 

despotism,  that  freedom  may  prevail,  and  liberty,  beauti- 
ful liberty,  may  reign  empress  of  this  western  empire, — 
and  alas  they  even  die  with  no  murmur,  without  a sigh, 
that  our  country  may  survive  and  forever  live. 

Where  is  stupidity  so  blind  as  not  to  appreciate  these 
heroic  deeds  ? Where  is  indifference  so  false  as  not  to  vi- 
brate upon  every  heart-string,  with  sympathy  for  these 
dauntless  friends  ? Where  is  ingratitude  so  base,  or  en- 
mity so  black,  as  not  to  feel  thankful  for  these  unreward- 
ed kindnesses  ? Where  is  human  nature  so  heartless,  or 
soul  so  cold,  as  not  to  pity  the  brave,  brave  soldiers,  when 
they  are  toiling,  suffering  and  dying  in  our  behalf?  But 
sorrow  casts  its  dark  shadow  across  the  soul,  when  the 
reflection  springs  up  in  the  mind  that  we  do  not  properly 
appreciate  their  services,  that  we  do  not  fully  feel  what 
sufferings  they  endure,  and  how  sadly  they  need  our  re- 
membrance, our  tender  care  and  heartfelt  sympathy. — 
Many  leave  cheerful  homes,  where  content  sat  smiling 
happily  and  joy  reigned  undisturbed — hut  what  a change 
is  there  now  ! Sorrow  has  flung  its  dark  shadow  through 
all  that  home  ; gloom  has  hung  its  sable  curtains  at  ev- 
ery window  ; cheerfulness  with  a bowed  head  sits  weep- 
ing in  the  lonely  corner  ; sadness,  grim  as  death,  sits  wrap- 
ped in  a dark  cloak  at  the  great  hearthstone  ; and  fearful 
anxiety  keeps  “tapping,  still  tapping”  at  the  outside  door. 
Fancy  paints  scenes  of  distress  and  want  for  the  reluct- 
ant vision,  and  death-shrieks  are  heard  in  the  moan  of  the 
winds,  as  they  mournfully  wail  through  the  long  winter 
nights.  Surely  ’tis  all  sorrow  and  sadness  at  home  ; hut 
its  departed  loved  ones — they  who  went  forth  to  battle 
nobly — where,  where  are  they  ? They  too  are  changed, 
and  perchance  how  sadly  ! Now  their  home  is  in  the 
ffented  field.  A dark  curtain  screens  the  world.  No  hap- 
py friend  is  there  to  breathe  consolation  ; no  family  chor- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


27 

us  is  heard,  such  as  was  wont  to  float  upon  the  air,  like 
the  music  of  the  spheres  ; no  voice  of  mother  kind  is 
heard,  as  once  it  filled  the  soul  like  the  thrill  of  iEolian 
harp.  They,  see  no  bright  fire  in  the  cheerful  fire-place, 
where  once,  when  childhood  had  its  day,  they  used  to  sit 
and  look. at  the  hopeful  life-pictures  in  the  coals.  < 

It  is  a cold,  dark  night,  without  a single  star  to  shed  a 
cheerful  ray.  The  icy  winter  breath  chills  them  to  the 
very  heart,  and  its  storm-\yinds  blow  through  the  worth- 
less tents,  and  seem  to  sport  with  their  shivering  forms. 

Perhaps  they  are  sitting  around  their  camp-fires,  with 
bowed  heads,  and  tearful  eyes,  and  aching  hearts.  Si- 
lence reigns  undisturbed.  No  sign  is  heard,;  no  word 
falls  from  the  lips  ; no  tongue  is -moved  to  tell  the  sad 
tale  of  the  soul.  Gaunt  hunger  may  be  preying  upon 
their  wasted  bodies  ; their  clothes  perhaps  are  thin  and 
torn,  and  ill-suited  to  the  icy  weather.  Alas  ! pale  sick- 
ness, it  may  be,  has  gathered  its  cold,  damp  sweat  upon 
their  brows,  and  death-worms  are  gnawing  at  the  golden 
life-chords  of  their  existence.  Many  poor  men  willingly 
went  forth  at  our  country’s  call,  leaving,  families,  dear 
families,  behind  upon  the  charity  of  fate.  They  have 
fought  and  bled  and  died  in  the  cause  of  their  country’s 
liberty;  but,  I fancy,  if  we  should  visit  their  humble 
homes,  once  so  cheerful,  we  would  find  misery  dwelling 
over  them  like  an  evil  spirit.  Famine  prowls  by  daylight 
and  there’s  nought  but  dying  embers  faintly  glowing  in 
the  old  fireplace.  The  frosty  windows  jar  and  rattle,  and 
the  winds  play  with  the  door-latch. 

Let  us  enter  one  of  these  homes  : A lonely  widow  sits 
weeping  without  condolence,  without  sympathy  as  she 
mourns  her  misfortune  and  loss,  while  beautiful,  though 
helpless,  children  play  around  her  knee,  crying,  ‘'Moth- 
er, mother  ! why  does  father  stay  away  so  long  ?”  This 


28 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


touches  a tender  chord  in  that  mother’s  heart,  and  she 
says,  with  quivering  lips,  “ Be  quiet,  my  dear  children  ; I 
guess  he  will  come  back  soon.”  Little  do  those  innocent 
children  think  that  their  father  is  sleeping — aye  the  slum- 
ber of  the  tomb. 

When  the  noble  Winthrop  fell,  the  genius  of  litera- 
ture chanted  a requiem  to  departed  glory,  and  the  world 
of  letters  bowed  to  bewail  his  melancholy  fall.  When 
brave  Lyon  was  shot  to  the  dust,  the  spirit  of  patriotism 
drooped  for  a time  like  a frost-nipped  flower,  and  the  na- 
tion deeply  mourned.  When  daring  Baker  fell  to  the 
dust,  bleeding  at  a dozen  wounds,  the  goddess  of  elo- 
quence wept  like  an  orphan  child  and  the  people  rushed 
to  do  honor  to  his  memory  over  his  proud  remains.  But 
hundreds  of  soldiers,  just  as  brave,  just  as  worthy,  have 
passed  away  in  their  country’s  cause,  and  the  heedless 
world  noticed  them  not.  The  nation  shed  not  a solitary 
tear  ; the  people  made  no  public  lamentation.  No  muf- 
fled drum  sounded  its  beats,  as  their  bodies  were  lowered 
into  the  ground.  No  cheerful  flower  of  grateful  remem- 
brance has  been  planted  upon  their  solitary  graves.  Thus 
an  ungrateful  world  lets  pass  away  into  forgetfulness  her 
noblest  children.  Thus  death  dries  up  the  fountains  of 
sympathy  in  the  human  heart.  Thus  our  poor  soldiers 
live  lor  us,  fight  for  us  and  die  for  us.  Thus  the  dust  of 
forgetfulness  gathers  over  their  memories,  and  oblivion 
casts  its  sable  pall  to  screen  them  from  the  world  forever. 
But  ought  we  to  be  so  cruel  and  iron-hearted  as  not  to  be 
full  of  sympathy  for  our  soldiers,  suffering  in  our  behalf? 
No  : Charity  forbid  ! Has  humanity  sunk  to  such  a low 
ebb  of  degeneracy  as  not  to  receive  them?  No:  Mercy 
forbid  ! Can  we  be  so  heedless  or  ungrateful  as  not  to 
remember  them  in  sickness — much  more  after  they  are' 
dead  ? No  : Heaven  forbid  ! But  when  you  sit  with. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


29 

your  friends  by  your  warm  and  cheerful  firesides,  and  the 
dry  winds  hoarsely  whistle  through  the  crevices,  and  the 
wild  storm  beats  against  your  jarring  windows,  and  the 
outside  world  seems  cheerless,  dreary  and  wrapped  in  an 
icy  armour  ; remember,  0,  pity  ! our  brave  patriot 
soldiers. 

[Thus  did  he  plead  for  the  soldiers,  hut  when  it  came  his  turn  to  lay 
aside  his  bright  prospects  and  to  suffer  all  for  his  country,  not  a word  of 
dissatisfaction  escaped  his  lips,  never  did  he  utter  one  word  that  would 
go  to  show  that  his  patriotism  had  abated  or  that  he  thought  his  lot  a 
hard  one.  What  a satisfaction  it  was  to  us  to  receive  those  letters  of  his 
when  they  were  so  full  of  good  cheer  and  confidence  in  his  cause  and 
calling- 1 That  he  did  have  his  dark  hour,  no  one  can  doubt,  but  to  us 
at  home  he  always  presented  the  bright  side  of  the  picture,  as  these  let- 
ters which  we  present  to  you  will  clearly  show  ] 


30 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


ggp'"'  This  letter  was  written  while  the  121st  lay  encamped  nearBakers- 
ville,  Md.,  nearly  a month  after  the  regiment  first  entered  the  field  : 

Camp  near  the  Potomac,  Oct.  19,  1862. 

My  Dear  Parents  : 

I received  a very  encouraging  and  most  welcome  letter 
from  you  (mother)  some  time  since,  and  could  I have  fol- 
lowed the  promptings  of  my  feelings,  it  would  have  been 
answered  long  before  this.  But  you  know  in  what  circum- 
stances soldiers  are  placed  from  necessity  when  our  country 
rocks  upon  the  fickle  fate  of  war.  Often  do  our  thoughts 
fly  back  to  linger  once  again  around  dear  friends  and  all 
the  pleasant  spots  of  memory  and  of  home,  and  when  we 
find  that  our  visits  thus  made  are  but  the  lifeless  joys  of 
a passing  dream,  which  break  like  bubbles  on  the  water, 
the  noblest  feelings  of  the  heart  sweep  up  and  yearn  to 
communicate  themselves  to  those  we  deem  our  friends  ; 
to  respond  to  every  touch  of  sympathy  which  letters  from 
home  send  vibi'ating  through  our  souls.  Mother,  if  you 
could  only  imagine  how  much  joy  that  letter  occasioned 
me,  you  could  not  fail  to  write  very  often. 

Since  I last  wrote  I have  enjoyed  most  excellent  health  ; 
as  good,  I know,  as  though  I had  been  at  home.  I think 
I ought  to  feel  thankful  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart  that 
I have  always  been  so  favored  by  nature  as  to  my  health, 
and  so  graciously  blessed  as  I drift  swiftly  down  the  tur- 
bid stream  of  a soldier’s  life.  I can  well  feel  thankful,  for 
while  in  our  long  and  tedious  march  from  Washington, 
man  after  man,  utterly  exhausted  by  the  heat  and  the 
march,  fell  prostrate  by  the  wayside,  I never  was  behind 
my  company  more  than  ten  minutes  at  a time,  and  while 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RfCE. 


31 

so  many  poor  suffering  soldiers  of  our  ranks  lay  sick  and 
dying  in  the  hospitals,  where  the  white- winged  angel  of 
mercy  hardly  dares  to  come,  and  so  many,  feeble  and  worn 
out,  are  excused  from  duty,  I have  never  been  absent  from 
duty  but  one  day  since  I left  home.  Somehow  I feel  confi- 
dent that  I shall  be  favored  with  unimpaired  health  as  long 
as  I shall  be  called  upon  to  serve  as  a soldier  in  the  cause  of 
our  struggling  country.  And  although  it  would  be  far 
from  my  wish  to  spend  all  my  days  in  discharging  the 
duties  of  a military  life  ; yet,  let  me  assure  you,  that  I 
never  enjoyed  myself  better  than  I do,  to-day,  enlisted 
as  I hope,  in  the  cause  of  national  reformation,  and 
of  national  liberty,  though  some  hardships  do  hang 
upon  our  heels,  and  Old  Winter,  cloaked  in  his  snowy 
robe,  stares  us  in  the  face  and  threatens  to  breathe  his 
icy  wings  upon  us. 

This  war  cannot  last  forever,  and  the  Union,  the  tem- 
ple of  our  national  liberty,  the  watch  tower  of  all  our 
hopes,  the  treasure  house  of  all  our  fortunes  must  be  pre- 
served. And  after  the  fires  of  this  conflict  shall  have 
burned  out  all  the  soot  of  its  crime  and  iniquity,  the 
morning  star  of  peace  will  dawn  upon  the  mighty  fabric, 
which  can  defy  all  the  storms  of  centuries,  whose  inhabi- 
tants shall  be  a people,  happy,  united  and  free.  True,  the 
sacrifice  of  a hundred  thousand  martyrs  and  perhaps  un- 
told hundreds  more,  as  a ransom  for  the  salvation  of  our 
fallen  country,  is  an  awful  atonement  for  her  protracted 
tyranny  ; but  when  wTe  reflect  that  she  has  been  the 
only  nationality  upon  the  earth  that  has  dared  to  wel- 
come liberty,  and  taking  her  by  the  hand  has  led  her 
through  the  storms  of  eighty  years  ; and  that  now  if  she 
should  perish,  the  cloud  of  universal  despotism  would 
shut  out  the  noon-day  light  of  the.  century,  we  see 
how  small  is  that  sacrifice,  when  compared  with  the 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


32 

untold  blessings  we  shall  receive  by  snatching  our 
country  from  her  impending  peril.  Surely  God  never 
gave  us  mind  to  hope  for  a better  end,  nor  arms  to  raise 
in  a holier  cause. 

Sunday,  toward  noon,  Galvin  Carpenter  and  myself 
came  over  to  the  hospital  to  see  the  sick,  and  were  most 
agreeably  surprised  in  finding  Mrs.  Lajiberson  there.  I 
had  been  very  fearful  that  she  would  not  get  there  in 
time  to  see  Wilbur  before  the  silver  stream  of  life  had 
silently  ebbed  away,  and  left  nought  but  a fountainless 
fountain  here  behind. 

Since  she  has  been  here  it  was  thought  at  one  time  that 
Wilbur  was  dying,  but  he  revived,  and  there  seems  to  be 
a chance  for  his  recovery. 

Four  deaths  have  already  occurred  in  the  regiment. — 
The  other  night  a man  lying  right  beside  Wilbur  Lam- 
berson  died,  and  was  buried  before  morning.  It  was  a 
shame  upon  his  Company  that  he  had  no  one,  no, not  one, 
to  notice  him,  no  one  to  touch  him  with  a sympathetic 
hand,  no  one  to  drop  one  word  of  kindness  in  his  wakeful 
ear.  He  was  a poor  Irishman  whom  nobody  owned, — a 
sick,  dying  soldier,  whom  the  busy  world  never  turned  to 
notice.  I used  often  to  see  him  as  I went  down  to  see 
our  boys,  stretched  upon  the  straw  as  helpless  as  he  was 
lonely  ; the  flies  actually  crawling  into  his  mouth, — 
the  hot  autumn  sun  streaming  in  his  face, — his  eyes  half 
closed,  and  the  damp  death  sweat  standing  upon  his 
manly  brow  ; and  there  he  lav  until  that  solemn  mid- 
night hour,  when,  as  the  outside  world  was  wrapped  in 
slumber,  his  life  ebbed  noiselessly  away,  and  a few  fellow 
soldiers  laid  him  down  to  rest  without  a coffin, — without 
a shroud, — without  a word  of  pity,  and  without  a funeral 
dirge.  For  the  crown  of  thorns  which  he  wore  here  upon 
earth,  in  heaven  he  will  wear  a wreath  of  laurel. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


33 


I can  predict,  nothing  as  to  our  future  movements.  I 
was  in  hopes  we  should  do  something  this  Fall,  but  no- 
thing here  indicates  that  now.  But  the  bugle  calls  me 
to  duty,  so  I must  close.  Write  to  me  often,  and  accept 
this  from 

Your  loving  son. 

Clarke. 


Hagerstown,  Nov.  26th,  1862. 

My  Deak  Father  and  Mother  : 

You  may  be  somewhat  surprised  at  receiving  this  letter, 
dated  at  this  place,  a town  in  the  northern  part  of  Mary- 
land ; but  I will  explain.  Last  Friday  morning,  a rainy 
dismal  morning  you  may  be  assured,  just  after  I had 
crawled  out  of  our  little  sheeting  house,  and  called  the 
Reville  roll-call,  the  Adjutant  came  to  me  and  told  me 
that  the  Lieut.  Colonel  desired  me  to  accompany  him  in 
a tour  through  Washington,  Harper’s  Ferry,  Hagerstown, 
&c.  I was  wonderfully  surprised  but  not  less*pleased  at 
the  proposition.  I gladly  accepted  the  offer,  and  accord- 
ing to  instructions,  prepared  and  ate  my  breakfast  in 
“double  quick”  time,  and  very  soon  was  in  readiness  for 
the  future  journey. 

The  object  of  our  mission  was  to  gather  up  the  sick 
belonging  to  our  regiment  whom  we  had  left  scattered 
around  in  the  hospitals  of  the  State.  We  finally  left  our 
encampment,  which  was  about  six  miles  from  Fredericks- 
burg, and  followed  the  Acquia  Creek  R.  R.  down  to  the 
landing  on  the  Potomac,  a few  miles  above  the  point 
where  the  beautiful  stream  empties  into  the  Chespeake 
bay. 

It  rained  hard  and  incessantly  from  the  time  we  left 
camp  until  we  arrived  at  the  steamer  Nellie  Baker,  the 
pride  and  queen  of  the  Potomac.  We  had  a most  pleas= 
5 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


34 

ant  and  interesting  sail  up  the  river,  and  as  night  was 
falling,  landed  in  the  Capital  of  the  West.  The  Potomac 
is  a beautiful  stream,  reminding  us  very  much,  of  the 
Hudson.  Some  very  fine  scenery  along  the  banks, — hut 
it  looks  wild,  uncultivated,  and  unadorned  with  splendid 
mansions, — eden-like  parks, — and  garden-like  fields,  as 
are  the  hanks  of  the  North  River. 

Early  in  the  morning  after  our  arrival  in  the  city,  the 
Colonel  started  for  Alexandria,  leaving  me  a pass  to  per- 
ambulate the  National  Metropolis  as  inclination  should 
lead.  My  heart  leaped  with  joy,  for  I longed  for  an  op- 
portunity to  view  that  city  whose  stupendous  wheels, 
turned  by  the  will  of  the  commonwealth,  drives  the 
mightiest  and  noblest  government  the  world  has  ever 
si  en  I walked  through  almost  every  street  of  importance, 
passed  huiriedly  through  Smithsonian  Institute,  saw  the 
White  House,  and  stood  'proudly  in  the  Representa- 
tive Hall  of  our  country,—  if  not  as  the  august  represen- 
tative of  the  people,  certainly  in  the  honorable  attitude 
of  an  American  soldier.  I wish  I had  time  to  relate  to 
you  what  I saw,  and  language  to  express  the  feelings  that 
went  surging  through  my  heart,  as  I stood  and  looked 
upon  the  American  wonders,  the  National  monuments  of 
that  city.  Smithsonian  Institute  is  almost  boundless  in 
dimensions,  yet  is  lull  of  the  noblest,  works  of  art,  and  the 
grandest  curiosities  of  nature.  I could  see  the  bright 
form  of  the  man  that  founded  that  Institution  in  every 
thing  I beheld.  Though  dead,  he  still  lives.  The  Capi- 
tol in  point  of  size  and  grandeur,  far  exceeded  the  limits 
of  my  boldest  anticipations.  Well  may  our  country  feel 
proud  of  it,  as  was  the  Roman  Commonwealth  of  the 
Pantheon. 

Sunday  morning  we  left  Washington,  and  at  noon  ar- 
rived at  Harper’s  Ferry,  that  desolate,  forlorn,  forsaken 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


35 


village,  where  but  three  short  years  ago  the  martyr  of  the 
nineteenth  .century  played  before  an  astonished  world  the 
noblest  part  in  American  history.  The  melancholy  town 
is  bowed  upon  her  knees  in  sack  cloth  and  ashes,  and  well 
may  she  ask  the  proud  spirit  of  that  brave  old  martyr,  for- 
giveness for  betraying  him  to  the  bloody  hang-men  of  the 
nation. 

It  is  the  saddest  looking  place  1 ever  saw.  It  seems 
covered  with  shame  for  its  deeds  of  wickedness.  No 
hotel  ; half  the  houses  deserted  ; the  stores  nearly  all 
shut  ; there  are  two  little  brick  churches  ; but  no  preach- 
er and  no  schools.  The  arsenal  is  in  ruins  ; sick  and 
dying  soldiers  are  in  the  silent  mills.  The  peoj  le  are 
sullen  and  sorrowful,  and  the  stieets  deep  in  mud.  At 
some  time  I will  send  you  a little  piece  ot  wood  which  I 
took  from  the  room  in  which  John  Brown  stood  when  lie- 
waved  his  sceptre  of  light  over  the  proud  form  of  “Old 
Virginia,”  for  once  bowed  in  the  dust,  and  where  he  was 
at  last  taken  and  led  to  the  altar  of  unholy  sacrifice. 

I would  like  to  write  more  about  this  place,  but  have 
not  time.  To-morrow  we  shall  go  to  Harrisburgh,  from 
thence  to  Baltimore,  then  to  Washington,  and  thence  to 
our  regiment. 

Write  often  to  your  Soldier  Boy  and  accept  love  from 
Your  Loving  Son, 

Clarke. 


The  following  is  a letter  written  at  Crampt-on  Gap,  just  before 
the  battle  at  Antietam.  T he  regiment  were  expecting  to  be  ordered  into 
the  engagement  at  any  moment  : 

Sunday  Noon,  Sept.  14th,  1863. 

My  Dear  Sister  : 

I have  just  finished  reading  your  most  welcome  letter, 
the  Chaplain  having  arrived,  bringing  the  mail  of  the 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


36 

regiment  from  Washington.  It  was  doubly  interesting, 
tor  the  reason  that  it  may  be  the  last  word  of  friendship 
that  will  ever  reach  my  ears  from  those  I love  so  well. 
\\  e have  been  marching  all  day  right  in  the  face  of  the 
enemy.  All  day  has  the  air  resounded  with  the  echoes 
ot  the  booming  cannon.  W e are  in  the  historic  valley  of 
the  P otomac,and  but  a short  distance  from  Harper’s  Ferry 
We  have  been  expecting  fur  hours  that  we  should  be 
called  into  an  engagement  ; and  now,  as  T steal  these  few 
idle,  moments  to  write  to  you,  we  are  concealed  behind 
the  brow  ot  a.  large  hill,  that  the  rebels  may  not  drop  their 
shells  right  in-among  us,  and  thus  launch  us  into  the  dim 
land  of  shadows.  As  i write  these  words  sitting  by  a 
little  laughing  brook,  with  ten-thousand  fellow  soldiers 
leaning  upon  their  arms  around  me,  the  cannonballs  and 
shells  are  whizzing  in  the  air  above  our  heads,  wdiich  are 
qitickly  responded  to  by  our  batteries  stationed  upon  the 
heights  behind  us.  1 am  writing  with  all  my  accoutre- 
ments on,  expecting  every  moment  to  hear  the  order  of 
“attention”  and  “forward  march”  to  the  held  ot  battle. 

1 cannot  tell  what  is  to  be  done  ; we  may  be  engaged  in 
half  an  hour  and  may  not  in  several  days. 

Monday,  Sept.  15. 

1 had  just  finished  the  last  sentence,  when  we  werecall- 
ed  to  “attention”  and  all  the  other  regiments  in  our  di- 
vision, (Gen.  Slocum’s)  and  part  of  Gen.  Smith’s,  being 
old  and  experienced  troops,  were  ordered  forth  from  our 
secure  position  to  meet  the  enemy  stationed  in  a very  ad- 
vantageous place  in  the  woods  upon  a high  eminence 
about  a mile  distant.  Owing  to  our  inexperience,  we  were 
ordered  to  stay  behind,  wisely  1 presume,  though  all  were 
willing,  it  not  anxious  to  go  forth  and  try  their  chances  ; 
to  share  the  shame  of  defeat,  or  glory  ot  victory.  Fora 
time  the  conflict  fiercely  raged  until  night  began  to  fling 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


37 

her  shadows  down,  when  to  fhe  glory  of  our  arms  and  the 
joy  of  the  patriot-soldiers,  the  rebel  forces  gave  way  leav- 
ing us  in  possession  of  the  field.  Our  troops  were  under 
the  command  of  Gen.  Franklin,  and  the  rebels  were  led 
by  Howell  Cobb.  I heard  him  speak  once  in  New  York, 
and  well  remember  how  he  looked,  and  how  strongly  he 
defended  the  Union,  against  which  he  now  raises  his  sac- 
riligious  hands.  The  loss  upon  our  side,  killed  and 
wounded,  is  estimated  150,  while  those  of  the  rebels  can- 
not be  less  than  500.  Of  these  we  took  300  prisoners. 
Having  no  orders  to  march,  we  remained  last  night  where 
we  were  stationed  during  the  battle,  but  this  morning  at 
five  o’clock  we  took  up  the  line  of  march  and  came  upon 
the  ground  where  yesterday  was  enacted  the  bloody  scene. 
Most  of  our  killed  have  been  taken  away,  and  the  wound- 
ed were  carried  from  the  field  last  night.  But  the  cold, 
damp  remains  of  the  rebels  are  strewn  upon  the  bloody 
ground  around  us.  While  here  and  there  are  wounded 
ones  in  whom  there  still  lingers  a faint  glimmer  of  life’s 
light  calling  for  mercy  at  our  hands.  It  is  a bloody, 
ghastly  scene  upon  which  I am  looking  now,  and  had  I 
time  perhaps  I might  make  it  more  clear  to  your  mind. 
We  are  half  a mile  from  Barkettsville,  a lively  little  town. 
Yesterday, there  was  not  one  loyal  man  in  town.  To-day  all 
are  devoted  to  the  Union 

Charley  sits  by  my  side  examining  a rebel  musket  and 
is  perfectly  well  and  happy.  I must  close  by  sending  my 
love  to  all  at  home.  Tell  them  I will  attempt  to  make 
myself  worthy  of  their  respect.  Good  Bye, 

Brother  Clarke. 


[We  received  many  other  letters  from  Clakke  during  the  Fall  and 
Winter  of  1862,  which  to  us  were  full  of  /interest  ; but  as  it  would  be 
impossible  to  publish  all  of  them  I have  omitted  some. 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


38 

In  the  month  of  February,  18fi?^  we  were  most  gladly  surprised  hy 
him,  having  come  homo  upon  a short  leave  of  absence.  He  then  bore  the 
Commission  of  2d  Lieutenant.  That  was  a happy  week  to  us  and  how 
gladly  would  we  have  felt,  could  he  have  staid  with  us  longer.  He  en- 
joyed it  no  less  than  we,  hot  never  did  a breath  escape  his  lips  which 
would  show'  that  he  harboured  the  idea  of  resigning.  He  seemed  cheerful 
and  not  at  all  dissatisfied  with  the  life  he  led  I can  remember  just  how 
he  looked  when  at  length  the  time  came  that  should  separate  us  forever , 
(hut  we  knew  it  not  then).  With  what  cheerful  composure,  as  tearfully 
we  said  “Good  Bye,”  he  took  us  hy  the  hand,  one  after  another, and  with 
a calm,  placid  smile  upon  that  open  countenance  said,  “Weep  not  for  me, 
I shall  see  you  again.  God  bless  you  all,  Good  Bye,”  and  then  he  drove 
swiftly  up  the  road,  and  just  as  he  was  disappearing  from  our  sight  he 
waved  his  hand  in  a silent  adieu,  and  that  was  the  last  we  saw  of  poor, 
dear  Clarke  ; till  in  the  Golden  Autumn  month  they  broughthim  home, 
and  we  buried  him  where  he  had  always  desired  to  he  buried,  in  the  Old 
Church-yard  of  his  dear  native  town.] 


The  following  letter  was  written  shortly  after  his  return  to  the 
regiment,  after  his  visit  home.  It  breathes  the  same  spirit  of  devotion 
to  his  country  and  her  cause  that  he  had  hitherto  shown  : 

Camp  near  Falmouth,  Feb.  23,  1863. 
Dear  Parents  : 

It  is  almost  with  as  much  joy  that  I write  you 
this  winter  evening,  as  I should  enjoy,  if  I could  sit 
with  you  in  the  old  family  circle,  and  converse  upon  life’s 
varied  experiences  and  unequal  prospects.  If  you  can  un- 
derstand the  feelings  of  a young  man  as  he  rows  his  little 
bark  out  from  the  moorings,  upon  the  broad  sea  of  life, 
and  can  see  the  silver,  subtle  ties  that  twine  around  his 
very  heart-chords  and,  stretching  back,  seem  to  chain  him 
as  by  the  golden  links  of  destiny,  to  the  home  of  his 
friends  and  of  his  sunny  childhood  ; you  can  appreciate 
the  hallowed  relation  which  I sustain  to  that  happy  cir- 
cle still — and  doing  this,  you  may  know  what  a pleasure 
it  is  to  me  to-night  to  send  my  spirit  out  to  commune 
with  you  so  far  away. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RfCE. 


39 

Just  a week  has  passed  away  since  I left  you  and  again 
went  forth  upon  my  mission,  to  seek  an  honorable  desti- 
ny,* as  have  a million  others,  in  the  rattling  car  of  war.— 
I need  not  assure  you  that  it  was  with  the  greatest  reluct- 
ance I bade  you  my  last  farewell,  for  it  seemed  like  snap- 
ping the  finest  feelings  which  string  the  lyre  of  the  human 
heart,  yet  I could  but  have  scorned  to  stay,  even  though 
it  had  been  possible  ; for  he  who  does  not  strike  for  his 
country  is  not  worthy  a home,  and  he  who  will  not  sac- 
rifice life’s  fleeting  pleasures  for  humanity’s  sake,  is  not 
worthy  a friend.  Should  1 give  up  the  battle  now.  it 
would  be  betraying  my  country  in  time  of  greatest  peril; 
it  would  be  but  the  basest  treachery  to  millions  of  our 
land,  struggling  for  a glorious  destiny.  It  was  the  great 
moral  American  question  of  duty  against  the  question. of 
inglorious  comfort  and  ephemeral  pleasure,  and  it  would 
have  been  a reproach  to  my  manhood,  a dark  reflection 
upon  my  friends,  had  I hesitated  for  a moment,  even  in 
the  idle  thought  of  my  mind,  between  such  widely  differ- 
ent alternatives. 

Well,  nothing  of  interest  transpired  on  my  journey  to 
Washington.  Common  events  made  up  the  transit,  and 
I arrived  at  the  capital  about  10  o’clock,  Wednesday,  and 
then  hastened  to  do  what  business  I had  on  my  hands. — 
I went  to  the  camp  of  the  152d  regiment,  just  back  of  the 
capitol,  and  found  the  boys  all  well  and  in  fine  spirits. — 
Hill  is  Captain,  and  Quinby  1st  Lieut.  Jul.  Town-, 
send  expects  a commission  ere  long,  and  Ed.,  as  well  as 
I remained  there  but  a short  time,  and  then  we  ail  came 
down  and  went  into  the  council-chambers  of  the  nation 
to  hear  the  Congress  of  this  new  sisterhood  of  states  leg- 
islate  upon  the  ponderous  * questions  of  the  hour — the 
questions  of  Nationality,  of  Justice,  of  Humanity. 

You  may  be  assured  we  felt  ourselves  well  repaid  for 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


40 

our  time  as  we  sat.  and  heard  that  august  assembly,  the 
representatives  ot  a great  continental  State,  deliberate 
upon  questions  and  politics  the  broadest  and  the  deepest 
that  have  ever  excited  the  attention  of  the  great  common- 
wealth of  man.  Never  before  did  any  public  body  sit  in 
judgment  upon  cases  of  such  mighty  importance,  and  so 
many  voices  divine  importune  it  for  righteous  decision. 
Never  before  did  it  handle  the  forces  of  so  sweeping  a 
struggle  and  guide  so  many -destinies  of  man’s  common 
future.  As  we  sat  and  reflected  upon  the  great  issues  for 
which  they  would  be  held  responsible  before  the  tribunal 
of  earth  and  of  heaven,  we  could  but  feel  like  invoking 
the  genius  of  Divine 'wisdom,  or  calling  the  sages  of  old 
from  the  Senate  of  the  skies,  to  preside  over  their  solemn 
counsels,  and  to  direct  them  in  the  highest  light  of  a di- 
vine civilization.  Our  armies  may  fight  like  legions  of 
lions,  and  gain  victories  which  shall  shine  like  stars  in 
this,  dark  hour  of  national  affliction,  and  yet  they  can 
-never  be  the  masters  of  a glorious  and  permanent  success. 
Victories  are  but  the  step  stones  of  national  triumph,  and 
our  military  achievements,  however  brilliant  they  may  be, 
are  but  the  prelude  to  the  grand  prospective  drama  of 
continental  Peace. 

Armies  are  as  soulless  as  the  winds  of  the  world,  which 
though  they  may  sweep  everything  on  before  them,  and 
sport,  with  the  commerce  of  men,  yet  can  never  direct 
.their  forces  to  any  specific  end, — can  never  look  forward 
to  any  definite  purpose. 

•This  is  emphatically  the  great  moral  struggle  of  the' 
century.  The  common  conflict  of  the  world’s  polar  ideas, 
which,  though  it  has  been  raging  for  fifty  years  beneath 
the  turf  of  our  civilization,  has  just  burst  forth  upon  the 
surface  to  shake  the  moral  creation  from  pole,  to  pole. — 
Its  manifest  purposes  are  broad  principles  of  national  ju- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


41 


risprudence,  which  twine  around  the  great  heart  of  hum- 
anity, and  hind  up  in  harmony  the  varied  interests  of  the 
world.  Thus,  to  gain  these  great,  noble  moral  purposes, 
our  hope  must  not  he  in  the  soulless  valor  of  our  arms. — 
For  success  we  must  look  up  to  the  great  council  of 
States,  the  central  mind  of  the  nation.  Congress  is  the 
brain  of  our  great  American  genius,  and  our  armed  forces 
are  hut  the  mighty  arms  with  which  she  is  to  achieve  the 
grandest  revolution  the  world  has  ever  seen.  Thus,  in 
view  of  all  this  transcendent  responsibility  which  rests 
upon  their  counsels,  and  the  awful  destiny  which  turns 
upon  their  decisions,  how  could  we  hut  teel  deeply  inter- 
ested for  the  few  hours  we  listened  to  their  deliberations? 
The  discussion  was  had  upon  the  hill  for  indemnifying 
the  President  tor  certain  so-called  arbitrary  arrests.  The 
measure,  of  itself,  was  void  of  any  positive  force,  as  regards 
the  prosecution  of  the  war  ; hut  it  became  the  touchstone 
of  public  sentiment  in  that  body,  and  of  the  common 
mind  Oi  the  country,  as  Congress  is  hut  the  trumpet 
through  which  to  the  world  she  speaks  her  thoughts  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  seas.  It  tended  to  show  wheth- 
er or  not  the  People,  the  eternal  power  behind  the  throne, 
will  stand  by  the  President  in  his  worthy  endeavors  to 
crush  out  the  greatest  rebellion  of  modern  times,  and  to 
stretch  the  wand  of  free  empire  over  a dominion — ours  by 
inheritance,  and  which  the  Fathers  dedicated  to  Freedom 
and  consecrated  by  their  blood. 

This  was  the  question  at  issue,  and  who,  a few  years 
ago,  could  ever  have  dreamed  that  in  the  American  Con- 
gress, the  President,  the  free  choice  of  this  great  national 
commonwealth,  would  be  condemned  and  denounced  as  an 
apostate,  for  executing  upon  the  unholy  heads  ot  traitors 
the  verdict  of  impartial  justice  and  the  penalty  of  treason  ? 
But  alas  ! what  a change  has  come  over  the  thoughts  of 
6 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


42 

our  legislators  ! Into  what  degenerate  hands  our  noble 
Government  has  fallen  ! What  death-worms  have  crept 
into  the  great  American  heart,  and  . re  gnawing  our  life 
away  ! Oh  ! why  has  the  spirit  divine  of  our  Fathers 
flown  from  ns  in  the  perils  of  this  dark  hour  ; and  whith- 
er, Oh  whither,  has  it  gone  ? Cataline  conspired  against 
the  republic  of  Rome  and  the  senate  cast  him  out  from  its 
councils,  and  he  went  forth  covered  with  the  curses  of  all 
honorable  men.  The  sacred  genius  of  Athens  implored 
the  gods  to  consign  to  perdition  all  who  dared  to  say 
aught  against  the. commonwealth  ; hut  now,  in  the  noon 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  when  our  country  totters  upon 
the  very  verge  oi  ruin,  and  traitors  are  holding  their  hel- 
lish carnival  upon  the  very  sepulchres  of  our  Fathers, 
these  Catalines  of  hell,  sent  forth  and  thrice  cursed  of 
heaven,  dare  to  stand  up  in  the  Congress  of-  this  great 
model  republic  and,  pointing  the  icy  finger  of  scorn  at 
the  weeping  'ghosts  of  two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand 
martyrs,  hurl  defiance  at  the  supreme  authorities,  and 
threaten  resistance  against  the  policy  of  the  land  ! Oh'! 
Treason,  where  are  thy  boundaries  ! Oh  ! traitors,  when 
shall  you  meet  your  doom  ? 

How  can  an  avenging  Justice  spare  these  modern  trait- 
ors who,  not  content  with  betraying  their  country,  would 
sacrifice  its  friends,  that  they  might  become  truly  the 
cringing  spaniels  of  rebels  ? Is  he  too  good  to  die  a fel- 
on’s death  who  would  hold  hack  the  arm  of  the  Govern- 
ment, as  it  is  up-raised  to  hurl  the  hell-hounds  of  Slavery 
from  off  the  neck  of  our  country  ? Is  he  better  than  an 
open  foe,  who,  when  the  enemies  hang  like  hungry  blood- 
hounds on  our  heels,  under  the  cloak  of  pretended  patri- 
otism walks  among  us  preaching  peace,  and,  with  false 
hands  thrusts  a whetted  dagger  at  our  hearts?  You  ail 
cry,  “ No,  no  ! ” Then  why  have  mercy  on  them  ? — 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


43 

Why  not  hurl  them  from  the  Tarpeian  rock,  their  mem- 
ories covered  with  the  curses  of  an  indignant  people,  ? — 
These  are  the  peace  mongers  who  prowl  to-day,  with 
lordly  air  through  our  legislative  halls,  and  like  so  many 
vultures  whose  talons  drip  with  the  life-blood  of  our  count- 
ry, tor  a moment,  would  charm  to  earth  the  angel  ot  peace 
— damnable  hypocrites  that  tlxy  are.  Why  tolerate  them 
in  our  high  places  ?,  ! say.  They,  feigning  horror  at  a 
drop  of  blood,  pretend  to  faint  at  the  sight  ot  a soldier 
slain,  while  invoking  a truce  for  an  hour  that  peace  may 
be  forever  sacrificed,  and  the  god  of  eternal  war  reign  su- 
preme. Such  are  the  men  who  counsel  peacp  when  peace 
is  impossible — peace  that  our  enemies  may  destroy  us. — 
Such  are  the  men  who  weep  over  the  dead  ashes  of  fallen 
despotism,  and  without  blanched  cheek  curse  the  Govern- 
ment and  the  men  who  dare  give  protection  to  the  genius 
of  Liberty. 

I heard  Vallandigham,  Voorhees,  of  Indiana,  May,  of 
Maryland.  The  whole  drift  of  their  argument  was  that 
the  loyalty  of  the  State  proved  the  innocence  oi  the  citi- 
zen, however  deep  lie' may  he  in  sympathy  with  the  rebel- 
lion, however  deep-stain  -d  lie  may  he  with  the  vilest  trea- 
son, however  foul  nr  y be  his  lips  with  harsh-sounding  de- 
nunciation of  the  Government  and  the  policy  of  the  Ad- 
ministration. 

Of  course  they  did  not  admit  this,  hut  their  arguments 
would  cover  it  all.  They  besought  the  powers  to  stay  the 
tide  of  war.  Why  should  the  North  how  down  he)1  head  and 
cease  her  hostilities  PThat  Slavery  might  gain  anew  guar- 
antee for  its  unnatural  existence  ? With  bitter  words 
they  protested  against  the  jiolicy  of  emancipation,  as  a 
measure  that  would  undermine  the  Democratic  party, 
founded  upon  the  ignorance  and  despotism  of  fifty  years, 
for  where  Liberty  finds  a foothold,  that  hoary-headed,  de- 


44  LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 

credit  party  can  never  enter. 

Thus,  in  their  wild  harangues  their  devotion  to  Dem- 
ocracy outstripped  their  patriotism.  They  denounced 
freedom  and  an  honorable  war,  and  hailed  slavery  and  in- 
glorious peace.  Such  men  are  our  deadliest  foes,  more  to 
be  dreaded  than  the  minions  of  the  South,  and  were  jus- 
tice done  them,  they  would  swing  as  high  as  Hainan,  as 
sorry  examples  of  degenerate  Americanism.  Did  we  not 
believe  that  the  God  of  destiny  presided  with  an  eternal 
vigilance  over  this  terrible  conflict,  we  sometimes  should 
feel  like  despairing  of  success,  when  we  notice  how  the 
North  is  divided  in  purpose,  when  we  see  how  many  there 
are  who  are  offering  the  hand  of  sympathy  to  the  South, 
and  are  zealously  at  work  in  placing  brakes  upon  the  car 
of  war.  Let  it  be  borne  in  mind  that,  if  the  Admin- 
istration fails  in  itp  worthy  effort  to  snatch  the  Republic 
from  the  awful  fate  of  disunion,  the  ruin  of  our  country 
will  be  charged  against  the  lives  of  these  degenerate 
children  of  the  North,  and  wherever  they  may  wander 
over  this  land,  rent  asunder,  the  sorrowing  spirits  of  two 
hundred  thousand  slain  will  rise  up  and  appear  against 
them,  to  witness  that  they  were  the  authors  of  their  un- 
holy sacrifice.  And  why?  for  the  contingency  -of  fail- 
ure hangs  only  upon  their  betraying  the  cause  of  the  na- 
tion and  liberty. 

No  one  can  doubt  that  the  North,  if  united,  can  reduce 
the  rebellious  South  to  subjugation,  and  woe,  and  entire 
desolation.  The  South  know  this  as  well  as  we  do,  and 
their  hope,  their  only  hope,  (and  alas,  how  well  founded 
is  that  hope,)  is  in  the  ominous  signs  of  Northern  sym- 
pathy,— of  Northern  dissensions.  Let  the  North  present 
an  unbroken  front  against  those  wayward  and  rebellious 
sisters,  and  did  they  not  bow  down  upon  their  knees,  and 
with  up-lilt jd  Hands  beseech  forgiveness  for  their  terrible 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


45 

wickedness,  we  could  sweep  down  the  dungeon  walls  of 
their  despotism,  and  drive  their  lost  and  degenerate  armies 
into  the  Gulf.  0,  that  we  had  the  disinterested  pa- 
triotism of  our  fathers  ! 0,  that  we  were  as  united  and 

devoted  to  the  cause  of  liberty  and  the  Union  as  are  the 
rebels  fit  the  South  to  slavery,  and  the  dark  scheme  of  our 
country’s  overthrow!  But  there  were  tones  in  the  Revo- 
lution, that  great  struggle  of  a people  against  despotic 
power,  and  how  could  we  hope  to  carry  on  this  holy  cru- 
sade for  national  freedom  and  northern  rights,  without 
having  traitors  in  our  midst. 

As  we  go  hack  and  follow  the  pathway  of  history  down 
through  the  night  of  ages,  we  find  that  the  ranks  of  everv 
generation  have  been  crowded  with  tories  who  have  exer- 
cised  every  power  to  resist  all  great  reformations,  and  to" 
retard  the  progress  of  the  world.  But  light  and  civiliza- 
tion have  prevailed  over  all  these  oppositions,  and  swept 
on  till  the  tide  touches  the  high  water  mark  of  the  nine- 
teenth century. 

These  conservatives  or  traitors  of  the  generation  might 
as  well  try  to  dam  Niagara’s  awful  plunge  with  a rope  of 
straw,  as  to  bind  the  moral  forces  of  creation  with  their 
compromises.  God  presides  in  history,  and  His  events 
must  constitute  the  current  of  the  world.  I believe  He 
presides  over  the  struggle  of  to-day,  and  as  Justice 
and  Liberty  are  on  our  side,  He  will  espouse  our  cause 
and  crown  it  with  these  most  glorious  triumphs  of  the  cen- 
tury. Then  let  us  live  in  hope  ; let  us  lift  up  our  eyes 
from  the  dark  scene  of  the  present  to  the  bright  promise 
of  coming  events  ; for  as  surely  as  the  day  follows  the 
night,  so  surely  will  a glorious  Peace,  blessed  with  free- 
dom, follow  this  dark  hour  of  sacrifice  and  war. 

Well,  now,  I am  ashamed  of  myself,  for  here  I have 
been  writing  a lot  of  trash,  and  have  only  got  to  Wash- 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


46 

inton  yet ; but  I must  not  linger  longer.  I found  Capt. 
Arnold  in  the  city,  and  Thursday  morning  we  started 
for  the  tented  held.  We  arrived  in  camp  just  as  the  sun 
was  sinking  behind  the  hills.  But  I was  somewhat,  tired 
I assure  you,  for  we  tried  to  outdo  each  other  in  the 
march  from  Falmouth  ; the  walking  was  awtul. 

I lound  the  boys  all  well  and  in  usual  good  spirits, — 
not  demoralized,  as  the  false  rumors  of  the  North  would 
have  it.  The  regiment  had  been  paid,  and  the  most  live- 
ly enthusiasm  prevailed  through  the  tented  city.  Never 
more  I believe,  were  the  soldiers  determined  to  play  well 
their  part  in  this  great  national  drama  of  blood.  Only 
give  the  army  auspicious  sun  and  dry  roads,  and  it  will 
strike  a blow  whose  sound  will  reverberate  round  the 
world. 

The  people  up  there  must  exercise  a little  patience,  for 
it  is  utterly  impossible  to  move  on  the  Rappahannock 
now.  Hooker  has  not  had  one  of  the  fifty  chance's 
which  McClellan  had,  for  whom  the  many  deluded  ones 
have  so  much  charity.  It  is  announced  .that  this  army 
is  going  to  be  broken  up  and  sent  to  the  South-west  "and 
South  Carolina.  I wish  they  would  send  us  there  or  some 
where  we  can  commence  immediate  operations  ; the 
authorities  being  too  imbecile  for  the  true  spirit  of  war. 
Bright  signs  begin  to  appear  : the  Herald  and  World 
have  just  been  interdicted  a circulation  in  the  army. — 
Hail,  0,  spirit  of  war  ! strike  death  to  treason  where- 
ever  you  find  it;  hush  every  voice  that  whispers  dissen- 
sions. , 

I did  not  have  very  good  luck  with  my  trunk  ; I got  it 
checked  at  Little  Falls  to  New  York,  but  when  I got 
there  it  had  not  come  on.  I could  not  wait,  but  I still 
hold  the  check.  They  told  me  that  they  would  forward 
it  on  to  me,  but  I have  but  little  hope,  as  they  had  or- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


47 

' ders  at  Washington  from  head  quarters  of  the  army  not 
. to  send  on  any  mare  private  boxes.  As  for  myself,  I 
could  get  along  very  well  without  it,  but  I feel  sorry  on 
account  of  the  good  folks  who  sent  things  by  me  to  dear 
friends  in  the  army.  I wish  you  would  see  them  and  ex- 
plain,— I certainly  could  not  help  it,  without  running 
over  my  leave  of  absence,  which  would  be  serious  a offence 
indeed. 

I have  had  command  of  the  company  since  my  return, 
and  have  been  out  on  picket  through  one  of  hardest  storms 
I ever  knew.  It  snowed  a foot  one  night,  and  we  had  no- 
thing to  shelter  us  but  little  bough  houses  ; but  we  lived, 
and  are  as  well  as  ever  in  the  world, — can  you  believe  it  ? 
We  were  on  picket  on  Washington’s  old  farm,  where  he 
married  his  wife.  When  I write  again  I will  describe  it. 
Now  it  is  very  late,  and  I must  close.  Remember  me  to 
all  the  good  people  of  my  old  native  town.  Tell  Charley 
I will  write  him  soon,  and  he  must  write  to  me.  Give 
my  love  to  all  the  folks,  and  to  the  children. 

Good  night, 


Clarke. 


48 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


The  following-  letter  was  written  about  the  same  time  as  the  previous 
one,  to  a Sister  who  was  away  from  home  in  the  Western  States,  during 
his  visit  : 

Camp  near  Falmouth,  Feb.  29,  1863. 

My  Dear  Sister  : 

I suppose  that  you  have  heard,  ere  this,  of  rny  brief, 
yet  most  happy  visit  home.  It  was  as  unexpected  to 
myself  as  it  proved  interesting  and  joyful. 

I shall  ever  remember  those  ten  golden  days  as  among 
the  most  sunny  seasons  of  my  life.  Though  my  stay  was 
so  very  short,  as  regards  the  measure  of  time,  it  was  very 
long  reckoned  by  the  standard  of  enjoyment.  It  seemed 
to  bring  back  to  life  and  light  the  old  dead  home-scenes 
of  the  by-gone  ; it  seemed  to  gather  up  from  the  public 
streets  of  the  world  all  the  noble  forms  of  friends  long  ab- 
sent. The  tide  of  life. for  those  hours  seemed  to  flow 
back  ; and  as  it  were  with  swift  feet  we  tread  the  wind- 
ings of  the  past  again,  thus  filling  them  with  the  echoes 
of  our  former  existence. 

But  now,  as  I look  back  upon  those  happy  hours  from 
the  stern  realities  of  the  tented  field,  it  seems  like  a pass- 
ing dream,  filled  with  airy  phantoms,  which  came  and 
went  like  shadows  on  a wall.  Though  we  hung  in  a de- 
lusion,  slept  in  a trance,  and  saw  bright  ideals,  living 
in  fancy’s  vision,  the  sight  of  my  old  home,  the  hearty 
welcomes  of  Father  and  Mother,  the  warm,  outstretched 
hands  of  neighboring  friends,  and  the  kind  whisperings 
of  an  overruling  Destiny,  were  genuine  pleasures,  which 
can  never  be  forgotten,  and  well  repaid  me  for  all  the  cost 
of  time  and  journey.  I felt  sad  that  I could  not  see  you, 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


49 

as  I remembered  how  uncertain  is  the  future,  how  fickle 
are  the  chances  on  which  turns  the  lot  of  human  destiny. 

One  day  the  Col.  informed  me  that  if  I would  make 
application,  he  would  procure  for  me  a leave  of  absence. 
I did  so,  and  it  was  approved.  So  I went  to  "Washing- 
ton, purchased  my  uniform,  and  with  heart  overflowing 
with  hopeful  anticipations,  started  for  the  home  we  love 
so  well. 

I suppose  you  have  learned  how  I surprised  our 
people.  For  a moment  they  seemed  to  doubt  their  own 
senses.  A soldier  seemed  to  be  quite  a curiosity  in  the 
little  quiet  village,  consequently  I did  not  lack  attention. 
I saw  all  the  good  citizens  and  to  each  had  to  ti  ll  the 
same  war-tales,  so  old  and  senseless  to  me,  but  new  aud 
apparently  interesting  to  them. 

Never  before  did  my  feelings  twine  so  warm  an  affec- 
tion around  that  good  old  town,  for  the  more  I wander 
abroad  through  this  wide,  selfish  world,  and  become  ac- 
quainted with  society  and  communities,  the  more  and 
deeper  I sound  the  great  depth  of  public  life,  and  see  the 
cold-hearted  ambition  and  jealousies  of  human  nature  ; 
the  more  do  I see  to  admire  and  cherish  in  that  humble 
village  and  her  quiet  people.  Hail!  village  of  our  child- 
hood’s home  and  joys — of  our  early  hopes  and  sports  ! 
All  praise  to  the  kind  guardian  of  our  life,  now  so  happily 
spent  ; and  may  the  future  never  bring  shame  upon  thy 
head,  or  sorrow  upon  thy  generous  heart. 

Father  and  Mother  are  enjoying  most  excellent  health 
for  persons  in  whoselives  “old  Time”  has  woven  so  many 
care-worn  years  ; and  their  spirits,  not  yet  void  of  hope, 
seemed  to  rejoice  in  the  pleasures  of  the  present  and  the 
memories  of  the  past.  Oh  ! what  a blessing  it  must,  be 
to  people  to  staud  upon  the  farther  borders  of  sixty  years 
and,  looking  back  in  retrospect,  see  a golden  harvest 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


50 

waving  in  the  breeze,  from  the  seed  that  they  had  scattered 
in  their  pilgrimage  of  life  ? They  have  painted  with  skill- 
ful fingers,  a bright  and  cheering  picture  upon  the  can- 
vas Destiny  has  given  them.  And  why  should  they  not 
delight  to  look  upon  it  now,  as  hope,  the  light  of  life, 
grows  dim,  and  they  are  about  to  rest  from  their  labors, 
even  underneath  the  thickening  shadows  of  the  tomb  ? 
I do  not  mean  to  say  that  they  will  not  live  to  bless  and 
guide  us  by  the  wisdom  of  their  counsels  for  many  years, 
for  I am  confident  they  will.  But  it  seems  to  me  that 
after  we  have  passed  the  meridian  of  life,  the  world  loses 
its  allurements  ; bright  prospects  shoot  away  like  falling 
stars  ; and  our  existence  becomes  darkness  by  the  fast 
creeping  shades  of  evening.  Alas,  how  true  it  is,  that  we 
are  so  selfish  and  ungrateful,  as  never  to  appreciate  the 
disinterested  kindness  of  our  parents,  nor  recognise  their 
exhaustless  charity  toward  us  in  our  waywardness  until 
we  have  passed  from  under  the  roof  of  their  j>rotection, 
and  wandered  through  some  of  life’s  pelting  storms,  when 
the  world’s  iron  doors  are  firmly  bolted.  I always  thought 
we  had  a good  and  noble  home  ; but  not  till  I had  left 
it  did  I learn  that  to  me  it  was  the  pleasantest  spot  in  all 
the  world  ; not  till  I had  bade  farewell  to  Father  and 
Mother,  Sisters  and  Brothers,  did  I realize  that  they  were 
the  truest  in  affection  and  devotion  of  all  the  people  of 
the  earth.  I do  not  want  you  to  think  me  homesick  nor 
disheartened,  for  I assure  you,  I have  not  felt  a reluctant 
feeling  nor  seen  a sorry  hour  since  I enlisted. 

I remained  at  home  only  five  days,  and  then  again  set 
out  upon  my  mission  to  the  tented  field.  On  my  return 
I loitered  a happy  day  in  Washington,  during  which  I 
visited  the  quarters  of  the  152d,  and  going  into  the  coun- 
cil chambers  of  the  nation,  heard  our  Legislators  in  fiery 
debate  upon  the  mighty  questions  of  the  day.  The  152d 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


51 

is  now  doing  provost  duty  in  the  city,  and  their  camp 
honored  by  fortune,  crowns  on  the  Capitolian  Hill.  Their 
mission  has  been  bright  and  their  duties  easy  thus  far  in 
this  sad  hour  of  national  peril  ; yet,  unclouded  as  has 
been  their  day  and  as  unruffled  as  has  been  the  sea  of  their 
military  life,  I would  not,  -were  it  possible,  exchange 
our  stormy  career  for  their  soldier’s  experience,  nor  our 
rising  prospects  for  their  tleeting  hopes.  What  we  have 
seen  in  our  pilgrimage  has  flung  a sunshine  around  all 
our  trouble.  What  we  have  done  has  glorified  all  our 
hardships,  and  what  wre  have  learned  has  banished  ail 
sad  remembrances.  The  hope  of  a glorious  record  is  the 
light  of  our  mission.  The  realization  of  a hopeful  future 
shall  be  the  reward  of  a true  soldier’s  deed,  and  the  kind 
benedictions  of  a grateful  people  shall  ever  recommend 
him  both  to  human  and  divine  favor.  Where,  then,  can 
be  the  light  of  a soldier  if  he  shall  always  work  behind 
the  screen  ? What  shall  be  his  title  to  public  recogni- 
tion if  he  has  never  suffered  for  his  country  and  the  public 
weal  ? If  I live  through  this  awful  strife,  if  I ever  again 
stand  upon  the  high  and  dry  shorts  of  an  honorable  na- 
tional peace,  1 desire  that  I can  'remember  that  in  doing 
my  duty,  I had  sounded  th*e  lowest  depths  of  human  peril , 
and  if  I fall , if  it  is  destined  that  I shall  pass  away  upon 
the  swift  tide  of  blood,,  I desire  that  I can  leave  a monu- 
ment behind  me  around  ivhich  the  'poor  angels  of  my  life 
may  ever  hover  and  on  ivhich  my  memory  may  'rest  secure 
from  the  dark  ivaters  of  utter  forgetfulness. 

This  is  not  egotism,  is  it  ? Certainly  I do  not  write 
it  in  any  such  mean  spirit.  It  is  only  a laudable  ambi- 
tion with  which  I would  inspire  every  American  Soldier  ; 
a life  which  should  charge  the  mind  of  every  child  of 
God. 

I found  all  the  boys  from  F airfield  well  and  in  the  most 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


52 

cheerful  spirits.  The}'  all  seem  proud  that  they  are  sold- 
iers in  so  noble  a cause.  How  well  does  this  speak  for 
their  patriotism  ! How  clearly  does  it  show  that  they 
are  truly  devoted  to  their  country  ! There  are  so  many 
in  the  service  who  have  no  good  motive,  who  throw  no 
soul  into  their  endeavors,  and  who  are  ever  mourning  over 
their  unhappy  lot,  that  it  seems  encouraging  to  converse 
with  those  who  are  struggling  through  the  bloody  stream 
by  the  light  of  an  idea,  and  with  the  unconquerable  zeal 
of  a true  patriot. 

Since  coming  back  to  camp  I have  had  command  of  the 
company.  The  Col.  has  given  me  encouragement  that 
before  long  I shall  receive  a still  better  position.  This  is 
for  you  al#ne,  and  of  course  the  world  need  not  know. 
But  I must  conless  that  I feel  well  about  my  promotion, 
for  1 can  sincerely  say  that  the  idea  of  an  office  never 
stretched  across  my  mind  when  I enlisted.  1 feel  that  I 
have  gained  it  only  by  trying  to  do  my  duty  as  a soldier. 

Fred.  Ford  will  have  a commission  before  long,  and 
Ward  Bice  will  be  made  Oulerly.  They  are  both  good 
and  brave  soldiers  and  well  worthy  of  promotion. 

I never  despair  as  to  the  resTilt  of  the  war.  I believe 
that  we  can  lay  the  tottering  fabric  of  the  Confederacy  in 
the  dust  and  make  the  traitors  ask  forgiveness  lor  their 
sins,  and  by  the  grace  of  an  auspicious  Providence  we  will 
do  it.  But  I must  draw  this  to  a close.  You  must  write 
to  me  very  often.  With  a thousand  thanks  for  your 
sisterly  kindness,  farewell,  farewell. 


Clarke. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


53 


52P: * The  following  letter  was  written  to  Brother  Daniel  Rice,  at  that 
time  in  California  : 


(J amp  near  Fredericksburg,  March  10,  1863. 

My  Dear  Brother  : 

You  can  never  imagine  how  happily  surprised  I was  on 
receiving  your  very  interesting  and  most  welcome  letter. 
I was  somewhat  astonished  ; because,  not  having  heard 
any  kindly  voices  sounding  over  the  continent  from  the 
“golden  shores  of  the  Pacific”  in  so  long  a time,  I had 
almost  reasoned  myself  into  the  belief  that  distance  at 
last,  had  broken  the  silver  ties  of  fraternal  affection,  and 
that  Old  Time,  weaving  with  its  thousand  shuttles 
the  mantle  of  forgetfulness,  had  veiled  me  from  your 
worthy  vision. 

1 was  rejoiced,  as  through  the  solemn  stillness  of  this 
aching  void,  I heard  a lost  brother  speak  ; because,  again,  I 
saw  your  noble  form  arise  out  of  the  darkness  of  the  hour 
and  appear  to  me  as  a true  brother  and  friend.  At  any 
time  and  at  any  place,  a letter  from  you  would  have  filled 
my  soul  with  gladness  ; but  with  ten-fold  joy  and  pride 
did  I grasp  that  glowing  signal  of  your  remembrance, 
among  strangers  down  here  in  the  pines  and  the  low 
lands  of  Virginia.  I hailed  it  as  a sun  beam  struggling 
through  the  darkness  of  the  night,  as  a voice  breaking 
forth  from  beyond  the  sea,  and  sounding  over  the  troubled 
elements  of  our  national  deep  to  whisper  hope  and  conso- 
lation into  the  ears  of  our  country’s  surge-tossed  mariners. 

You  will  never  know  how  often,  long  and  deeply  I have 
meditated  upon  you  and  the  many  happy  hours  we  have 
whiled  away  together.  The  ^moment  has  never  passed 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


54 

over  my  head  since  you  left  me  upon  that  beautiful  prairie 
in  the  west,  that  did  not  bring  to  my  mind  some  picture- 
scene  of  our  childhood’s  life,  and  kindle  in  my  heart  a 
bright  hope  that  your  future  may  be  as  full  of  happiness 
as  your  past  as  been  of  kindness  and  charity.  I think  of 
you  and  George,  off  there  alone  so  far  away,  among 
strangers,  without  brother  or  sister  to  rejoice  with  you 
in  your  success,  to  sympathize  with  you  in  your  trials 
and  misfortunes,  and  then  a shadow  of  sadness  creeps 
over  my  soul,  and  a burning  desire  springs  up  that  before 
many  yeais  float  away,  our  lots  may  run  together  again 
and  we  be  companions  in  the  same  destiny. 

Well  do  I remember  the  bright  spring  morning,  when 
the  birds  were  rejoicing  over  their  happy  return  to  our 
northern  climes,  as  we  all  bade  George  Good  Bye,  and 
with  solemn  thought  invoked  a blessing  upon  his  Cali- 
fornia mission  ; and  as  well  as  though  it  were  but  yesterday 
do  1 ri  member  the  morning  that  you  left  us  in  our  west- 
ern home  and  went  forth  to  try  your  fortune  in  a distant 
land.  Feelings  of  sadness  and  gladness  flooded  my  mind, 
as  with  oui'  good  sister  1 watched  you  go  forth  from  our 
little  humble  home, and  at  last  fade  from  our  reluctant  sight 
in  the  thick  woods  far  over  beyond  the  prairie. 

I felt  sad  to  see  you  leave  us,  to  be  absent,  perhaps  for 
a long  time, — you  with  whom  I had  sported  in  the  sunniest 
days  of  our  lives,  those  days  of  innocence,  joy  and  hope, 
you  from  whose  liberal  hands  I had  received  so  many 
deeds  of  kindness,  and  around  whom  the  busy  angel  for 
years  had  twined  the  golden  relations  of  a brother  with 
the  best  affections  of  my  nature.  I felt  glad  because 
I saw  you  starting  upon  a mission  which  hope  illumined 
as  with  the  brightest  light  of  life  ; because  I knew  that 
you  were  going  forth  to  join  George,  so  far  away,  alone, , 
and  among  strangers. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RfCE. 


55 

The  dark  tide  of  years  has  flowed  away  since  then, 
burdened  with  its  ten  million  changes,  its  sorrows  and 
cheers,  its  hopes  and  fears  ; and  as  it  has  swept  onward 
in  its  steady  course  it  has  brought  us  many  blessings  and, 
alas  ! how  sad  to  remember  ! borne  a sister  to  the  tomb. 

Thus  the  roaring  loom  of  time  never  ceases  to  run  on 
and  its  ten  thousand  mystic  shuttles  are  ever  weaving 
threads  of  sadness  and  gladness  in  the  web  of  human  life. 

Ot  course  you  have  not  heard  of  m.y  hasty  but  most 
pleasant  visit  home.  Never  did  ten  happier  days  fall  in 
any  man’s  life-march  from  the  cradle  to  the  tomb.  I found 
Old  Fairfield  slumbering  quietly  in  the  deep  silent  em- 
brace of  the  night  ; for  the  old  chapel  clock  tolled  the 
solemn  hour  of  midnight  -as  I rode  down  into  the  familiar 
town.  Nor  did  I break  its  slumber  ; but  putting  out 
my  horse,  went  quietly  to  bed.  I happened  to  get  into 
the  same  bed  with  Charley,  and  had  just  covered  up 
nicely  when  he  woke  up.  He,  of  course,  was  somewhat 
wonder-struck,  and  for  a moment  did  not  speak.  But  I 
was  soon  forced  to  laugh,  by  which  he  soon  made  the 
acquaintance  of  his  nocturnal  visitor.  We  talked  until 
most  morning,  and  then  sleeping  till  breakfast  time  went 
down  stairs  together.  Can  you  imagine  how  astonished 
Father  and  Mother  were  to  see  me  ? 1 found  them  both 

very  well  and  in  fine  spirits.  But,  alas  ! the  silent  years 
are  sprinkling  grey  hairs  thick  and  fast  upon  their  devot- 
ed heads,  and  furrowing  deep  their  traces  upon  their  no- 
ble brows.  Yet  it  was  pleasant  to  notice  that  the  lamp 
of  life  yet  .burns  bright,  and  sheds  divine  light  through 
the  dim  recesses  of  their  okl  age.  They  can  lean  long  and 
confidently  upon  the  staff  ot  memory.  They  have  no 
dark  deeds  to  weaken  the  tlpeads  of  their  declining  lite. 
Thus  may  they  live  the  time  that  destiny  has  allotted 
for  the  mortal  career  of  man. 


56 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


You  cannot  appreciate  the  profound  sympathy  which 
pulsates  through  their  warm  and  generous  hearts  for  you 
and  George.  Nothing  wears  so  deeply  upon  their  souls 
as  the  thought  that  you  are  so  far  separated  from  them  ; 
and  that  you  may  he  sick  and  want  lor  the  tender  care  of 
friends. 

I do  not  think  you  could  have  been  sincere  when  you 
wrote  me  that  you.  thought  I had  not  acted  for  the  best 
in  enlisting.  Gladly  would  I have  sought  advice  had  it 
been  practicable  to  hear  from  you  before  it  was  necessary 
for  me  to  act.  I never  thought  of  enlisting  until  the 
President  issued  his  call  for  three  hundred  thousand  more 
volunteers.  And  then,  young -and  healthy  as  I was,  I 
could  not  stand  back  from  the  broad  tide  of  patriotic  life 
which  swept  down  from  the  northern  hills  and  the  west- 
ern plains,  and  see  our  country  totter  and  cry  for  help  like 
a forlorn  girl  in  a storm.  No  ; that  cry  appealed  to  my 
love  of  country,  and  obeying  the  best  impulses  of  my  be- 
ing, trusting  to  the  ministering  angels  of  life,  and  follow- 
ing the  glowing  examples  of  our  brother-soldiers,  who  had 
gone  forth  before  us,  we  buckled  on  the  armour  of  honor- 
able warfare,  and  came  forth  upon  the  tented  field  to  do 
and  to  suffer  for  our  bleeding  country. 

Really,  I regard  it  as  a glorious  mission  ; and  if  we 
shall  but  snatch  the  fair  haired  Genius  of  America  from 
the  awful  doom  which  these  ungodly  conspirators  had 
planned  for  her,  then  we  shall  feel  well  paid  for  all  our 
hardships,  well  rewarded  for  all  our  devotion.  / Of  course 
T regret  that  the  terrible  calamity  of  war  has  befallen  us  ; 
but  now  that  we  are  involved  in  its  woes,  let  us  strive  for 
a glorious  redemption.  Perhaps  I have  more  hope  in  this 
contest  than  you.  All  clouds  have  their  silver  lining  ; 
all  nights  their  hidden  stars. 


LTEUT  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


57 

I believe,  before  many  months  shall  roll  away,  the  black 
shaggy  war  clouds  will  break  away,  and  the  full  sunlight 
of  Peace  rush  upon  our  land,  regenerated,  united  and  free. 

The  only  question  that  ever  made  me  hesitate  about 
enlisting,  was  a reluctance  to  depart  from  a course  already 
marked  out,  and  to  lay  aside,  even  for  a while,  the  cherish- 
ed plans,  lor  the  future.  But  if  I live  through  this  con- 
test as  I confidently  expect,  I shall  re-enter  with  greater 
zeal  the  chosen  course  of  life  with  a better  title  to  success 
and  popular  favor. 

You  know  that  when  we  came  out,  I was  a private  ; 
but  now  I am  happy  to  be  able  to  announce,  am  a Lieu- 
tenant. If  I live  and  have  my  health,  I am  in  hopes  of 
getting  up  higher.  I do  not  write  this  to  boast  but  sim- 
ply to  let  you  know  that  I am  doing  well  and  am  satisfied 
with  my  position. 

I received  your  picture  with  a great  deal  of  gladness. 
Yrou  have  changed  wonderfully,  I think  for  the  better.  I 
would  not  have  known  you,  but  taken  you  for  some  “emi- 
nent- divine,”  little  for  my  brother,  that  bade  us  farewell, 
that  beautiful  Spring  -morning,  away  upon  tlm  prairies  of 
the  west.  I have  a picture  oi  George  also,  a id  shall  ever 
keep  them  by  me  in  all  the  clouds  and  sui  shine  of  life. 
Now,  dear  brother,  I must  close.  Give  my  tenderest 
affections  to  George.  - I hope  he  has  received  my  last 
letter.  Now,  as  the  watches  of  the  night  grow  sleepy, 
and  the  cold  rain  patters  upon  our  “little  tented  home,” 
with  a thousand  thanks  for  your  brotherly  and  enduring 
kindness,  I will  say  farewell,  farewell. 


Clarke. 


58 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


Camp  near  Falmouth,  April  19th,  1SG3. 

Mr  Dear  Brother  Charley  : 

It  is  Sunday  again,  the  nineteenth  of  April, — that  il- 
lustrious day  of  American  history, — that  glorious  morn- 
ing of  the  great  Revolution, — the  memorial  birth-day  of 
our  common  nationality.  The  19th  of  April,  immortal 
in  the  proud  fame  of  Lexington, — thrice  glorifitd  by  the 
sacrifice  of  New  England's  bravest  sons  ! Sublime,  historic 
day.  The  morning  star  of  two  great  Revolutions,  how  can 
we  forget  thee  P Thy  first  beams  light  up  the  broad 
swell  of  eighty  years  national  progress,  and  with  a thous- 
and greetings  will  the  American  people  ever  welcome  thy 
annual  coming. 

You  cannot  imagine  what  a beautiful  daj^  it  is  down 
here,  how  the  sunshine  mantles  all  ! How  the  earth 
strives  to  look  green  amid  the  scorched  desolation  of  war  ; 
how  the  rippling  streams  gaily  laugh,  while  the  war 
gods  mutter  hoarsely  ; how  the  little  birds,  earth’s  sweet- 
est ministrelsy,  flitting  around,  sing  sweetly  ; and  how 
softly  the  mystic  angels  of  the  air  sweep  the  wind  harp  of 
iEolus.  It  is  like  a Mayday  at  home,  so  blooming,  so 
full  of  budding  life,  so  fragrant  and  bracing. 

I am  officer  of  the  guard  again  to-day, — I think  this 
was  the  case  when  I wrote  you  last.  You  need  not  think 
I have  been  ever  since,  nor  wonder  if  this  Inter  is  greatly 
disconnected, — for  I have  been  already  obliged  to  “turn  out 
the  guard, ”a  half  dozen  times.  Yesterday  our  Division  was 
reviewed  by  Gens.  Hooker,  Sedgwick,  and  that  Swiss  gen- 
eral— I do  not  remember  his  name. 

Thus  you  see  cur  commander  extends  bis  searching  ob- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


59 

serration  to  every  part  of  the  great  army  under  his  ai> 
thority.  Sometimes  he  takes  occasion  to  visit  different 
portions  of  his  command,  alone  aud  in  disguise,  thus  en- 
abling him  to  see  the  common  workings  of  the  smallest 
wheels  in  the  stupendous  machinery  of  the  army  of  which 
he  is  the  master-spirit. 

I assure  you  that  he  fills  a higher  place  in  the  hearts  of 
the  soldiers  than  ever  McClellan  did.  They  have  un- 
bounded confidence  in  his  ability,  a profound  assurance 
of  his  devotion  to  Liberty  and  the  country,  and  a com- 
mon conviction  that,  when  he  moves,  he  will  hurl  upon 
the  Confederacy  the  crushing  power  of  an  avalanche,  thus 
ensuring  a speedy  suppression  of  the  rebellion. 

There  is  something  positive  in  Gen.  Hooker — a will  un- 
conquerable, an  energy  so  vigorous,  a purpose  so  exalted, 
and  a heart  so  full  of  devotion,  that  it  seems  lie  possesses  all 
the  most  essential  qualities  of  a successful  General.  A 
man  to  be  a successful  leader  in  this  great  continental 
strife,  must  know  how  to  organize  a campaign,  how  to 
guide  a great  army,  and  must  have  daring  enough  to 
stake  his  all  upon  the  issue.  Undoubtedly  McClellan 
could  organize  an  airny  and  plan  a campaign  as  well  as 
any  man  on  the  continent  ; but  he  had  not  that  spirit  of 
sacrifice,  not  that  assurance  and  confidence,  not  that  deep 
devotion,  not  that  irresistable  determination,  not  that 
lion  bravery  unchained  by  fear,  that  would  inspire  him  to 
bend  over  the  opening  grave  to  snatch  a victory  that  would 
make  his  life  immortal.  Decisive  battles  are  always  the 
cheapest.  To  gain  conclusive  results  a great  deal  must 
be  risked.  Had  Pizarro  been  like  McClellan,  upon  that 
island  of  the  sea,  he  would  have  bowed  down  and  given 
up  in  despair.  HadNapolean  been  like  McClellan,  at  the 
bridge  of  Lodi,  he  would  have  turned  away  in  fear.  Had 
Hannibal  been  like  McClellan,  the  rugged  Alps  would 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


60 

have  frowned  him  down,  Italy  been  unconquered  and 
the  wrongs  of  Carthage  unavenged.  Had  Alexander  been 
like  McClellan,  he  would  never  have  crossed  the  Granni- 
cus,  and  all  south  Asia  would  have  boasted  itself  unsub- 
dued by  the  “ War  God”  of  Macedon.  Cyrus  turned  the 
Euphrates  and  reduced  Babylon  the  imperial  city  of  the 
age.  Belshazzar  came  down  from  his  throne  and  bending 
upon  his  knees  asked  for  mercy  like  a helpless  child.  Mc- 
Clellan came  to  the  very  portals  of  Richmond,  and  not 
daiing  to  enter  the  unholy  city,  at  last  skulked  away. 

f believe  that  Hooker  will  never  write  such  a record, 
that  he  will  never  sit  supinely  down  and  permit  such 
golden  opportunities  to  e vade  his  giasp,  that  he  never  will 
lead  his  brave  army  through  the  Red  St-a  and  the  Wild- 
erness to  the  very  entrances  of  the  promised  land,  and 
then,  as  if  undone  by  tile  glory  of  his  success,  turn  back 
upon  bis  career  and  tear  down  the  monuments  of  his 
country’s  hopes  and  of  his  country’s  progress.  McClellan 
did  all  this  and  what  a retribution  has  fallen  upon  him  ! 

It  may  be  possible  that  my  confidence  and  hopes  in 
Gen.  Hooker  are  unwarrantable.  If  so,  I shall  learn  it  but 
too  soon,  and  shall  feel  almost  like  despairing  for  our  coun- 
try and  her  free  institutions.  It  is  time  for  the  great 
hero  and  genius  of  this  struggle  to  appear.  All  great  his- 
toric storms  in  the  world  have  borne  up  to  public  light  the 
men  destined  by  Heaven  to  lend  the  people  through  the 
Red  Sea  of  war  and  place  them  triumphantly  in  the 
Promised  Land  of  peace.  The  great  Revolution  of  Eng- 
land, brought  an  Oliver  Cromwell  up  to  light.  Napoleon 
leaped  Phcemx-like  I r<  m the  fieiy  strife  of  the  French 
Revolu  ion,  and  upon  the  waves  of  that  awful  struggle 
was  surged  up  to  the  highest  eminence  of  military  glory 
a al  power.  The  San.  lPmingo  insurrection  which  harms 
up  uke  a midnight  lire  in  the  daik  periods  of  the  world’s 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


61 

history,  revealed  the  great  proportions  of  Toussaint 
L’Ouverture,  the  great  nobleman  of  Afric’s  children,  the 
man  who,  by  the  God-like  majesty  of  his  being,  put  to 
shame  the  wicked  white  oppressors  of  his  race,  who  in 
peace  possessed  all  the  mildness  of  a woman,  and  in  war 
manifested  all  the  crushing  power  of  an  avenging  Deity. 
The  Revolution  of  our  fathers  had  its  Washington.  Then 
why  may  we  not  predict  for  Gen.  Hooker  the  sublime 
mission  of  these  few  heroes  of  the  world  ? 

All  the  boys  of  our  acquaintance  are  well  and  proud  ot 
the  part  they  are  playing  in  this  glorious  drama. 

Well,  Charley,  lmw  is  the  school  prospering  ? You 
have  good  advantages.  Improve  them  and  you  will  never 
regret  it.  I would  like  to  be  able  to  be  with  you  at  An- 
niversary. But  I hope  that  1 shall  be  enabled  to  speak 
for  my  country,  in  deeds,'  from  the  stage  of  war  as  I can- 
not be  home  to  speak  by  word. 

I must  close.  Remember  me  kindly  to  all  the  neigh- 
bors. Give  my  love  to  all  at  home,  and  write  often. 
With  a thousand  well-wishes  for  your  welfare,  I sav 
Good  Bye. 


Clarke. 


62 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


%'i^T  The  following  letter  was  written  just  after  the  terrific  battle  at 
Chancellorsville,  in  which  the  121st  passed  through  its  most  fiery  ordeal 
and  acquitted  itself  nobly,  although  many  of  the  brave  men,  endeared  to 
us  by  a hundred  ties  went  down  to  their  eternal  rest. 

When  we  received  this  letter,  giving  an  account  of  their  sufferings  and 
losses,  when  we  knew  how  many  of  his  comrades  had  fallen  beneath  the 
awful  storm  and  that  he  was  safe  and  unharmed,  we  felt  as  though  his 
danger  had  passed  and  that  we  should  welcome  him  home  again,  alive 
and  well  as  when  we  had  bade  him  Good  Bye,  upon  that  cold  February 
morning,  but  a short  time  before. 

But  God  m his  good  dispensation  had  willed  that  he  should  not  fall 
upon  the  field  of  carnage,  amid  the  roar  of  cannon  and  the  ratt  e of 
musketry,  but  in  the  quiet  of  Government  Hospital.  We  bowed  our 
heads  in  teats  but  with  submissson  to  the  blow. 

The  letter  gives  a lengthy  aud  to  us  an  interesting  account  of  that 
avviul  and  fatal  conflict  But  amid  all  the  despair  and  g oom,  that  it 
cast  upon  that  country,  he  dots  not  utter  a word  that  would  go  to  show 
less  confidence  in  U'n.  Docker. 

Banks’  Ford,  May  6th,  1863. 

My  Dear.  Parents  : 

SSome  time  has  elapsed  since  I last  wrote  you  ; but  I 
assure  you  there  have  been  many  causes  tor  my  apparent 
neglect.  In  the  last  week  we  have  passed  through  the 
most  eventful  history,  the  most  fiery  experience  of  modern 
warfare.  1 think  you  will  assent  to  this,  when  you  learn 
the  details  of  our  doings,  of  our  gains  and  losses,  and  of 
our  baptism  in  the  bloody  stream. 

A week  ago  yesterday  (Tuesday)  our  regiment  broke 
up  camp  and  having  marched  three  or  four  miles,  encamp- 
ed at  evening  on  the  high  bluffs  overlooking  the  river  just 
below  Fredericksburg.  No  fires  were  permitted  to  he 
made  ; no  noise,  no  movements  were  allowed  ; nothing 
that  would  fore-shadow  to  the  enemy  the  awful  cloud 
that  was  gathering  over  their  heads.  All  the  thunder 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE.  63 

and  lightning  of  an  avenging  army  were  wrapped  up  in 
the  thin  silken  shroud  of  mystery. 

About  nine  o’clock  the  Col.  informed  us  that  they  were 
to  cross  the  river  at  eleven.  Russel’s  brigade  was  to  cross 
first,  and  we  next,  with  forty-five  men  in  a boat,  and  thus 
get  enough  on  the  other  side  to  drive  the  pickets  from 
their  defences,  and  then  to  protect  the  laying  of  the  pon- 
toons on  which  other  divisions  could  cross  to  our  assist- 
ance. 

At  12  o’clock  we  were  aroused,  and  the  regiment  divid- 
ed into  sub-divisions  of  forty-five  men,  so  that  no  confu- 
sion would  occur  when  we  reached  the  hanks  of  the  river. 
I had  charge  of  a division  composed  of  all  the  cooks, musi- 
cians, pioniers,  and  stragglers  of  the  regiment,  a motley 
crew  I assure  you,  and  it  kept  all  my  wits  at  work  to 
bring  them  under  that  state  of  control  so  essential  to  the 
carrying  out  of  the  plan.  We  moved  down  upon  the 
plain,  hut  as  usual  the  boats  were  not  yet  in  leadiness. 
They  had  just  commenced  to  draw  them  down,  and  they 
made  so  much  noise,  it  seemed  almost  certain  that  the 
whole  plan  would  he  discovered  to  the  listening  ears  of 
the  watchman  upon  the  other  side. 

After  three  anxious,  weary  hours  had  passed,  the  boats 
were  dropped  into  the  water  and  the  crossing  commenced. 
The  grey  morning  was  just  breaking  forth  upon  the  Rap- 
pahannock, as  the  first  boat,  full  of  proud,  heroic  spirits, 
rowed  out  into  the  stream  and  silently  pushed  up  to  the 
other  side.  Strange  to  say,  the  enemy’s  sentinels  did  not 
hear,  nor  see  them  until  the  boat  touched  the  banks. 
Just  as  soon  as  they  discovered  it,  they  sent  two  or  three, 
volleys  over  in  our  midst,  but  without  any  serious  effect. 
This  was  our  first  occasion  under  musketry  lire,  and  at 
first  startled  us  a little,  but  after  the  first,  thought,  all 
dread  and  fear  passed  away,  and  as  we  moved  out  upon 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


64 

the  river  it  seemed  to  me  the  proudest  moment  of  my  life. 
Thus  the  crossing  was  effected,  and  soon  after  the  pon- 
toons were  laid.  Only  two  men  on  our  side  were  killed 
in  the  operation.  Soon  after,  our  company  (D)  was  de- 
ployed out  as  skirmishers,  and  as  we  moved  out  cautious- 
ly upon  the  plain  and  through  the  thick  grey  mist  that 
hung;  around  the  morning,  the  bullets  were  not  few  that 
whistled  by  us,  above  us,  and  around  us  ; hut  we  went 
uninjured  and  as  safely  as  though  the  broad  wings  ol  a 
kind  Providence  hovered  over  us.  As  we  advanced,  their 
skirmishers  retreated,  and  we  followed  up  until  we  could 
see  the  Rebels  swarming  by  Battalions  from  the  distant 
semicircular  woods  that  skirted  the  plain  upon  which  we 
lay.  We  dared  not  advance  any  farther,  lest  we  should 
draw  on  a general  engagement,  which  would  be  certain 
destruction  to  us,  our  force  across  the  river  being  so  small. 
Our  mission  then,  as  I understand  it,  was  only  to  hold 
our  position  with  the  view  of  attracting  the  attention  of 
the  enemy  from  movements  Gen  Hooker,  with  the  main 
army,  was  making  farther  up  the  river. 

We  remained  out  as  skirmishers  all  day,  and  were  but 
a few  hundred  yards  from  the  enemy,  who  were  in  consid- 
erable force  behind  the  embankment  along  the  Richmond 
road.  They  did  not  trouble  us  much  with  their  firing 
after  we  ceased  advancing  ; except  nowand  then  a sharp- 
shooter would  try  his  most  creditable  skill  upon  the  life 
of  some  brave  patriot  soldier.  At  evening  we  were  reliev- 
ed as  skirmishers,  but  kept  under  arms.  Wednesday 
came  and  passed  away  with  about  the  same  scenes,  events 
and  results — Thursday  and  Friday  also.  We  were  under 
arms  all  the  time,  and  often  subject  to  the  most  sweeping 
artillery  fire  from  the  enemy,  in  their  strongholds  on  the 
height.  Saturday  the  rebel  skirmishers  dared  to  advance 
on  us  ; but  Gen.  Brooks  threw  forward  a strong  line  ol 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


65 

battle,  which  repulsed  them  ; and  advancing  took  posses- 
sion of  a deep,  narrow  ravine,  halfway  across  the  plain, 
running  parallel  with  river  and  the  hills.  They  resisted 
desperately  for  a few  moments,  hut  could  not  stand  ihe 
pressure  of  our  deep  embattled  ranks,  and  falling  hack  in 
confusion  to  their  defences,  were  compelled  to  leave  a few 
prisoners  as  the  prize  of  our  day’s  work. 

Sunday  morning  dawned  ; and  Oh  ! how  full  were  its 
day  light  hours,  with  pain, and  tears,  and  blood, and  death  ! 
Quite  early  we  commenced  to  advance  toward  the  hill  with 
every  assurance  of  safety  and  success  ; for  we  were  led  to 
believe  that  they  had  evacuated  their  position  during  the 
night.  How  sadly  were  we  mistaken  P We  had  not  ad- 
vanced far  before  they  began  to  shell  us  upon  every  side. 
The  earth  trembled  with  the  vibrations  of  the  cannonad- 
ing, and  the  heavens  resounded  as  with  a hundred  peals 
of  thunder.  The  smoke  spread  around  the  whole  country 
like  an  enveloping  mist,  and  every  current  of  air,  scented 
with  burning  powder,  seemed  to  strike  the  nostrils  like  the 
hot  breath  of  the  nether  world.  Still  we  moved  on.  For 
a time  we  stood  in  line  of  battle  to  support  one  of  our 
Batteries.  Then  we  were  marched  forward  and  comn  a ul- 
ed  to  lie  down  in  a little  hollow  and  be  in  readiness  to 
charge  on  one  of  their  Batteries  at  any  moment.  What 
a place  that  was  ? They  could  fire  on  us  from  three  dif- 
ferent directions,  and  we  had  no  means  of  protecting  or 
helping  ourselves.  There  we  had  to  remain,  with  nothing 
to  occupy  our  minds  except  the  wild  monitions  of  danger  ; 
nothing  to  greet  our  eyes  but  those  frowning  batteries  ; 
nothing  to  sound  upon  our  ears,  but  the  thunder  of  that 
artillery  and  the  shrill  cheers  of  our  enthusiastic  foe, 
which  to  us  sounded  like  the  confused  voices  of  rejoicing 
fiends.  You  know  that  all  sense  of  danger  passes  away 
when  we  are  enabled  to  help  ourselves  ; „.nd  where  the 
9 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


66 

chances  of  the  battle  turn  upon  our  heads,  then  every- 
thing is  swallowed  up  in  an  overflowing  enthusiasm,  and 
every  circumstance  seems  tinged  as  wish  golden  sunshine. 
We  could  sit  there  and  see  those  batteries  pointed  at  us  ; 
seethe  smoke  puffing  up,  and  then  for  some  seconds, 
which  seemed  like  minutes,  feel  that  they  must  deliver 
their  iron  charges,  the  missiles  of  death,  somewhere  near 
us. 

As  was  natural,  we  felt  a lit  tle  anxious.  I did  not  feel 
afraid  ; for  it  seemed  to  me  as  certain  as  anything  in  the 
hook  of  fate,  that  I would  not  be  injured,  and  that  I should 
pass  through  the  fiery  trial  safely  and  without  harm.  We 
were  in  this  condition  of  danger,  this  state  of  anxiety  and 
suspense,  when  a line  of  battle  on  our  right  advanced, 
swept  away  their  line  of  infantry,  and  charging  up  the 
height  to  those  defences,  drove  away  the  force  there  and 
planted  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  that  glorious  symbol  of  our 
liberty  and  nationality,  triumphantly  upon  its  high  em- 
battlements  ; upon  the  heights  and  defences  that  had 
frowned  our  army  down  for  more  than  four  months.  Never 
before  did  that  Old  Flag  look  so  good  and  beautiful  to 
me  ; never  before  was  I so  proud  of  my  nationality  ; and 
never  did  I feel  so  devoted  to  the  holy  cause  of  my  bleed- 
ing country. 

Thus  was  taken  the  first  line  of  the  enemy’s  defences. 
Soon  after  this  our  regiment, as  well  as  the  other  troops, was 
ordered  down  to  Fredericksburg,  iq  order  to  move  up  the 
plank  road  which  leads  over  the  hill  toward  Gordonsville. 
Our  company  was  left  behind  to  picket  that  whole  plain  ; 
and  not  a hundred  rods  from  the  position,  from  which  the 
enemy  was  very  slowly  retreating. 

I did  not  like  this  duty  very  well,  as  we  all  knew  that 
if  the  rebels  moved  toward  us  it  would  be  folly  to  resist, 
and  we  would  have  to  run  with  but  few  chances  of  escap- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


67 


ing  with  our  lives,  but  as  ours  is  the  left  flank  company, 
we  could  not  complain,  as  it  is  generally  used  for  all  kinds 
of  skirmishing.  We  remained  there  until  we  could  not 
see  a friend,  until  we  could  see  no  one  but  hundreds  of 
lvbels  wandering  through  the  woods.  You  may  think 
this  strange,  but  will  understand  it  when  I tell  you  that 
just  as  soon  as  we  had  taken  the  defences,  of  which  I have 
spoken,  they  left  them  again  and  joined  the  main  column 
moving  up  the  plank  road.  Of  course  the  rebels  came 
right  back  into  them  again.  When  we  saw  that  our 
forces  were  so  far  away  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
surprise  them,  we  thought  it  expedient  for  us  to  make  as 
hasty  a retreat  as  possible.  We  fell  back  to  the  city,  but 
to  our  sad  disappointment  found  it  almost  deserted,  and 
we  knew  not  whereto  look  for  our  regiment.  The  city 
looked  more  desolate,  more  lonely,  more  forsaken  than 
burning  Moscow  left  by  the  Russians. 

Wre  found  out,  however,  that  our  regiment  had  gone 
up  the  Gordonsville  road  before  mentioned.  We  follow- 
ed on  in  quick  pursuit.  We  marched  about  four  miles, 
when  we  arrived  at  a litttle  grove,  in  which  the  Surgeon 
had  raised  his  little  red  flag,  and  by  this  we  knew  the 
regiment  must  be  somewhere  near.  We  halted  and  Capt. 
Fish  and  myself  went  out  to  see  if  we  could  find  it  in  the 
sea  of  humanity  that  covered  the  country  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  But  how  did  we  find  it  ? It  was  in  a 
terrible  engagement  then,  and  we  had  not  advanced  far 
before  we  met  our  brave  comrades  coming  off  from  the  field 
of  carnage,  covered  with  glory  and  their  life’s  blood.  We 
went  on  with  the  view  of  joining  them,  but  the  tide  was 
already  turned.  Our  forces  were  just  coming  off  from  the 
field.  It  was  now  dark.  Everything  was  in  chaos.  Frag- 
ments of  fifty  regiments  were  drifting  around  in  wild  con- 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


6S 

fusion  Broad  fields  were  covered  with  wounded,  and  strag- 
glers running,  they  knew  not  whither. 

By  nine  o’clock  something  of  order  was  again  restored  ; 
regiments  reorganized,  and  most  were  ready  to  rest  from 
their  weary  toils.  The  night  passed  off  as  do  all  nights 
after  a day  of  terrible  battle.  The  next  morning  dawned 
and  the  storm  opened  again  with  all  its  fury.  We  began 
to  realize  the  peril  of  our  situation.  Our  Corps  was  sur- 
rounded except  by  a narrow  passage  to  the  river  at  Ranks 
Ford,  three  miles  above  Fredericksburg.  The  city  was 
now  in  the  hands  of  the  Rebels.  The  fighting  through 
the  day  was  mostly  artillery  and  skirmishing.  We  were 
in  a circle  three  miles  in  diameter,  surrounded  by- woods, 
and  we  could  see  strong  lines  of  battle  formed  just  on  the 
edge  of  these  woods  all  around.  They  seemed  to  be  afraid 
to  advance  on  us,  not  knowing  how  weak  we  were.  How 
fortunate  for  us  ! They  could  have  crushed  us  into  frag- 
ments. We  knew  this  perfectly  well  all  day  and  our  great 
hope  was  that  they  would  not  advance  upon  us  before 
night,  as  then  we  thought  to  make  our  escape.  This  was 
a day  of  awful  anxiety,  long  to  be  remembered.  To  keep 
- up  a show,  our  Generals  kept  some  of  the  troops  moving 
about,  thereby  making  our  force  appear  large  in  the  eyes 
of  the  enemy.  Five  o’clock  came  and  with  it  the  most 
terribly  sublime  scene  I ever  saw.  The  enemy  advanced 
upon  us,  from  every  side,  and  opened  afire  that  made  the 
earth  tremble  beneath  our  feet.  We  were  surrounded  by 
a wall  of  fire  ; the  black  clouds  of  smoke-hung  like  a pall 
around  the  dying  day  ; the  deafening  roar  of  artillery 
sounded  lik  death  howling  through  the  wilderness,  and 
all  the  angry  war  fiends  seemed  to  be  conspiring  against 
us.  Howe's  Div.sion,  ou  our  1 ft,  was  first  attacked,  but 
u i e[  ulsed  the  enemy  and  took  two  regiments  prisoners. 
Our  regiment  was  supporting  a Batter)  upon  the  extreme 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


69 

right.  They  made  an  advance  on  our  lines  but  were  driv- 
en back  and  swept  down  by  hundreds  almost.  We  held 
our  position  until  a little  after  dark,  and  then  you  may  be 
sure  we  were  not  slow  in  making  our  retreat  to  the  river. 
Our  Brigade  brought  up  the  rear  of  the  whole  Corps. 
My  Heavens , what  a niylit  that  was  ! Ali  seemed  to  be 
aware  of  their  condition  and  their  peril.  The  safety  of 
the  Corps  seemed  to  hang  upon  every  hour.  Every  regi- 
ment vied  with  each  other  in  the  common  race  lor  the 
river.  I will  say  that  I never  felt  more  anxious.  We 
moved  down  to  the  river  and  the  whole  Corps  was  mass- 
ed upon  three  acres  of  land.  We  remained  there  until 
eleven  o’clock,  when  the  121st  was  taken  out  about  half 
a mile,  to  the  front  to  guard  against  any  advance  of  the 
enemy,  while  the  army  was  crossing.  About  four  o’clock 
we  moved  down  to  the  river  as  quietly  as  possible,  and 
were  the  last  regiment  to  cross.  Daylight  soon  came,  but 
we  were  safe.  What  would  have  been  our  fate  had  we 
been  an  hour  later  ? 

I suppose  you  will  have  heard  of  the  loss  in  the  121st 
before  receiving  this.  273  were  killed,  wounded  and  taken 
prisoners.  About  300  out  of  1000  now  remain  for  duty 
Oh  ! what  a sacrifice  for  old  Herkimer  and  Otsego  t 
When  will  they  reap  the  fruits  of  this  awful  immolation  ? 
Captain  Arnold  is  probably  killed  ; also  Fred.  Ford 
and  Lieuts.  Doubleday  and  Bates.  Capt.  Mather  is 
wounded.  I will  not  say  any  more  now  of  this  week  of 
sorrow,  of  blood  and  of  death.  When  I write  again  I will 
say  more.  Col.  Upton  is  the  bravest  man  I ever  saw. 

Now  you  must  excuse  this  letter,  for  I have  had  to  write 
in  great  haste  and  upon  the  ground.  Hoping  to  hear 
from  you  soon,  Glood  Bye. 


Clarke. 


70 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


E3F"  The  fol'cwing  letter  was  received  hut  a sho  t time  after  the  pre- 
ceding one.  It  srives  a few  more  particulars  concerning  thp  battle  and 
especially  of  the  be1  a\  iir  of  the  1 21st.  It. had  then  been  1 ar  ed  for  a - 
certainty  of  the  death  of  Lieut  Fred  Ford  Fred,  and  Cla  ke  had  al- 
ways been  on  terms  of  great  intimacy  before  and  after  t!  eir  enlistment, 
lie  was  a noble  yo  ng  man  who  enlisted  purely  from  a sense  of  duty, 
and  when  he  fell,  all  who  know  him  mourned 

i t 

Camp  near  Falmouth,  May  14th,  1863. 

My  Dear  Brother  Charley  : 

It  is  raining  in  torrents,  and  our  little  shelter  tents  are 
not  entirely  adequate,  to  keeping  us  wholly  from  the  wet. 
Nevertheless  we  are  not  uncomfortable,  nor  discontented, 
but  appreciate  all  circumstances  as  being  conducive  to  our 
ultimate  benefaction.  We  are  made  of  such  pliable  ma- 
terial that  we  can  turn  our  inclinations  into  almost  any 
channel  ; can  he  moulded  by  circumstances  into  almost  any 
form  of  mind.  Especially, can  the  American  soldier, if  he  be 
devoted  to  the  cause  of  his  country,  and  true  to  the  princi- 
ples of  the  fathers,  adapt  himself  to  any  emergency,  and 
educate  himself  to  any  fortune.  Why,  what  are  a few 
temporal  sufferings  and  deprivations  in  the  scale  against 
that  undying  glory  and  honor  which  will  he  due,  and  wil- 
lingly acceded  to  every  soldier  who  serves  faithfully  in  the 
army  of  the  Union  ? I deny  that  there  can  he  any  real 
enjoyment,  except  in  a living  consciousness  of  a perform- 
ance of  duty,  as  rational  members  of  a great  political  so- 
ciety. On  the  other  hand,  so  long  as  this  consciousness, 
like  the  breath  of  angels,  sweeps  the  golden  chords  of  the 
heart,  the  wail  of  misery  and  of  sorrow  must  be  hushed 
even  in  the  gloomiest  hours  of  our  existence.  All  mis- 
fortunes, defeats  and  losses,  under  such  circumstances, 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


71 

sink  away,  like  clouds  in  an  ocean  of  etherial  glory.  A 
consolation  bubbles  up  from  the  profoundest  depths  of  the 
heart,  and  like  a mountain  spring,  overflows  the  whole 
being.  Though  I am  obliged  to  forego  a great  many 
privileges  which  I might  enjoy  at  home,  yet  I can  but 
heartily  wish,  that  this  desolating  war  which  is  hanging  # 
the  nation  in  funeral  weeds,  and  spreading  sorrow,  like 
drifting  snow  upon  the  winds  of  winter,  through  so  many 
homes,  would  come  to  a close  ; yet  I can  truly  say  that  I 
was  never  more  contented  with  my  lot,  never  better  assur- 
ed of  laboring  in  a just  and  holy  cause  ; never  more  proud 
of  the  part  I was  playing  in  the  drama  of  life,  and  never 
more  hopeful  of  the  great  national  issues  which  await  us 
in  the  future. 

Charley,  you  cannot  imagine  what  an  experience  we 
had  during  those  seven  bloody  days,  across  the  Rappa- 
hannock. They  will  ever  be  remembered  as  among  the 
few  historic  days,  in  the  woidd’s  progress.  These  are 
gauntlets  which  we  all  have  to  nln,  fulfilling  the  mis- 
sion of  American  soldiers  ; and  the  more  perilous  they 
are,  the  more  credit  follows  the  endeavor.  The  121st 
earned  for  itself  a good  name,  as  far  as  our  corps  is  con- 
cerned, at  any  rate. 

Without  a view  to  censure,  I must  say  that  some  one 
of  our  Generals,  either  Brooks  or  Sedgwick,  committed  a 
great  error,  in  thus  crowding  our  forces  into  that  Hell- 
hole  on  Sunday  afternoon,  without  first  ascertaining 
the  strength  and  position  of  the  enemy.  As  I told  you 
in  my  other  letter,  we  abandoned  the  defence  of  the 
heights,  almost  immediately  after  taking,  them.  When 
the  rebels  fell  back,  our  Generals  took  it  for  granted  that 
they  were  retreating  as  fast  as  possible,  and  therefore  hur- 
ried our  troops  on  in  quick  and,  almost  heedless  pursuit  ; 
but  instead  of  retreating,  they  only  fell  back  into  their 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


72 

second  line  of  defences,  which  were  completely  conceded 
from  us  by  the  thick  forests.  Our  skirmishers  were  sent 
out,  hut  the  Rebels  fell  back  without  resistance,  and  thus 
almost  betrayed  them  into  the  trap  which  they  had  set 
for  all  who  might  advance. 

Thus  our  brave  troops  were  shoved  blindly  into  the 
meshes  of  an  overwhelming'foe,  into  the  dark  chasm  of 
defeat  and  death.  It  seems  as  though  we  might  have 
shelled  the  Rebels  out  of  these  woods,  at  least  have  learn- 
ed their  strength,  position,  and  intentions,  by  means  of 
our  artillery,  and  thereby  saved  the  infantry  from  that 
awful  fire,  which  swept  so  many  brave  spirits  from  the 
earth,  and  roiled  back  the  tide  of  victory  upon  the  arms 
of  the  country.  Bartlett’s  Brigade  formed  the  first  line 
of  battle.  In  the  centre  was  the  121st,  upon  the  right 
was  the  16th,  N.  Y.,  and  upon  the  left,  the  96th,  Penn, 
and  5th  Maine.  The  96th  fired  two  volleys  and  run,  the 
5th  Maine  soon  broke,  and  the  16th  N.  Y.  next.  Thus 
both  flanks  of  our  Regiment  were  left  unprotected.  The 
enemy  came  around  on  both  sides  and  gained  a raking  fire 
upon  our  ranks  ; but  the  121st,  filled  with  pride  and  lof- 
ty patriotism,  true  to  the  cause  for  which  they  fought, 
and  remembering  their  kind  friends  at  home,  stood  firm 
and  irresistable,  until  the  Rebels  were  obliged  to  fallback 
upon  another  line  of  battle. 

Of  course  the  feeble  regiment,  then  so  small,  could  not 
charge  upon  the  new  line  of  fresh  troops,  and  consequently 
was  necessitated  to  fall  back.  Col.  Upton  rallied  the  few 
surviving  ones,  and  almost  crying  as  he  spoke,  implored 
them  in  the  name  of  their  country,  to  stand  by  the  Old 
Flag,  and  make  an  attempt  to  avenge  their  fallen  com- 
rades, who  had  so  nobly  fallen.  They  tried  ; but  in  vain. 

I hesitate  not  to  say  that  the  121st  bore  the  heat  of  the 
engagement.  The  16th  N.  Y.  did  well ; but  the  5th 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


73 

Maine,  and  the  96th  Pennsylvania,  did  not  honor  them- 
selves a great  deal.  I have  seen  it  stated  in  the  papers, 
that  the *9 6th  led  the  brigade.  I assure  you  that  it  did 
lead  it  in  the  retreat.  It  never  was  known  to  fight  well 
but  once,  and  that  was  at  Crampton’s  Gap. 

Our  Colonel  and  Lieutenant  Colonel  played  well  the 
parts  of  heroes  in  that  bloody  scene. 

The  armies  of  the  Union  can  boast  no  braver  men,  no 
truer  soldiers,  no  more  devoted  patriots  than  Col.  Upton 
and  Lieut.  Col.  Olcott.  They  seemed  to  be  at  every 
point  of  the  line  at  the  same  time,  cheering  on  the  men, 
cautioning  them  to  be  cool,  showing  them  how  and  where 
to  fire,  and  all  with  a fearlessness  that  seemed  to  defy  both 
injury  and  death.  Col.  Upton’s  horse  was  shot  under 
him,  and  becoming  unmanageable,  almost  carried  him  in- 
to the  rebel  lines.  His  only  chance  of  escape  was  by 
jumping  off  as  quickly  as  possible.  It  seems  almost  a 
miracle  that  he  passed  through  the  battle. 

The  next  day,  as  we  were  about  falling  back,  Dr.  Holt, 
Newton  Phelps,  and  the  whole  drum  corps  were  taken 
prisoners.  They  learned  that  the  general  against  us  was 
Gen.  Wilcox,  who  was  Col.  Upton’s  instructor  at  West 
Point.  He  recognized  the  Colonel  and  told  the  Doctor  he 
thought  him  the  bravest  man  he  ever  met. 

The  Doctor  saw  most  of  our  dead  buried.  He  noticed 
Fred.  Ford  and  some  others  ot  Co.  C particularly.  Fred. 
was  stripped  of  everything  except  his  shirt.  Though  he 
had  been  exposed  two  days,  yet  he  looked  remarkably 
natural.  He  was  shot  through  the  thigh,  cutting  the 
main  artery,  and  thus  bled  to  death.  When  he  was  shot 
he  asked  Capt.  Kidder  to  carry  him  back  a little  behind 
a brick  church,  standing  near,  that  he  might  be  protected 
from  the  fire  and  also  from  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun. 
That  was  the  last  that  was  ever  seen  or  heard  of  him  before 
10 


74  LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OP 

the  tide  of  life  ebbed  forever  away.  Alas,  for  poor  Fred.  ! 
He  has  paid  bis  last  tribute  to  the  cause  of  Liberty,  and 
and  made  bis  last  sacrifice  upon  the  altar  of  his  country  f 
He  loved  the  land  of  bis  nativity,  the  country  of  the  He^ 
ro-Fathers  ; and  bis  devotion  was  as  great  and  deep  as  bis 
love — bis  patriotism  as  broad  as  the  justice  of  our  cause. 
Though  he  has  fallen,  be  cannot  be  forgotten.  Though 
his  voice  is  hushed  in  the  solemn  silence  of  the  tomb,  his 
noble  martyrdom  will  speak  forever  as  with  a thousand 
tongues.  Though  his  arms  are  folded  upon  his  cold 
breast  beneath  the  blood-soaked  turf,  and  his  coarse  blan- 
ket is  wrapped  around  him  ; methinks  I can  see  his  shad- 
owy ghost,  with  a hundred  thousand  more,  wandering 
like  pilgrims  through  the  damp  darkness  of  the  hour,  and 
invoking  a terrible  retribution  upon  their  murderers,  and 
the  enemies  of  the  Republic. 

No,  he  is  not  wholly  dead.  A true  patriot  cannot  die. 
While  his  ashes  are  mouldering  in  the  wilderness,  by  the 
little  brick  chapel  on  the  hill,  and  traitors  sing  their  war 
songs  over  the  little  fresh  mound  in  which  his  mortality, 
lies,  his  gallant  spirit,  robed  in  white,  and  winged  with  a 
martyr’s  glory,  is  lightly  dancing  with  the  bright  spirits 
gone  before  him,  to  the  harps  played  by  angels,  around 
the  ball-room  of  the  skies. 

As  we  stand  in  imagination  upon  the  bloody  battle- 
field and  see  the  great  death-angel  wrapping  his  dark 
wings  around  him,  and  hearing  him  out  from  the  battle- 
storms  of  life  forever,  we  can  hut  say,  soldier,  martyr,  de- 
voted patriot,  heroe,  and  friend,  Hail  ! and  Farewell. 

The  loss  of  our  Corps  (Sedgwick’s)  is  estimated  at 
5,000,  nearly  half  the  total  loss  of  the  whole  army.  It  is 
rumored  that  Gen.  Sedgwick  had  orders  to  move  up  and 
take  the  heights,  thirty-six  hours  before  he  made  the  at- 
tack. If  this  be  so, the  defeat  of  the  campaign  can  he  eas- 


LIEU?.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE.  75 

ily  accounted  for.  Some  of  the  prisoners  that  we  took, 
acknowledged  that  we  could  have  taken  the  heights,  a 
great  deal  easier,  a day  or  two  before ; for  their  whole  and 
principal  force  was  engaged  in  fighting  Hooker. 

I cannot  see  why  Gen.  Hooker  did  not  attack  them  in 
the  rear,  when  they  were  pressing  on  us  so.  Hut  I am 
willing  to  make  allowances.  I have  unqualified  confidence 
in  Gen.  Hooker  still  ; and  fully  believe  that  if  all  subor- 
dinates had  carried  out  his  designs  and  orders,  the  result 
would  have  been  far  different. 

But  I do  not  get  discouraged,  dispirited  or  gloomy.  I 
feel  assured  we  shall  succeed  ultimately.  The  Right 
must  prevail. 

The  country,  wrapped  in  the  folds  of  anorerruling  des- 
tiny, is  receiving  an  awful  scourging  ; but  she  will  cer- 
tainly survive  the  storms  of  this  terrible  conflict.  My  on- 
ly fears  spring  from  the  tardiness  or  waywardness  of  the 
powers  at  Washington.  The  Administration  seems  al- 
ways too  slow.  Instead  of  making  events,  it  is  reluctant- 
ly carried  along  by  the  events  which  the  laws  of  Nature 
have  sent  sweeping  through  the  bosom  of  the  nation.  It 
is  Spring,  the  time  for  carrying  on  active  operations  ; but 
the  army,  always  too  small,  is  being  enfeebled  by  the 
mustering  out  of  two  years'  soldiers  ; and  yet  nothing  has 
been  done  by  the  Administration  towards  recruiting  the 
ranks  of  the  army,  through  the  channel  which  Congress 
has  opened. 

It  seems  to  me  that  depots,  ought  to  have  been  opened 
through  the  country,  where  our  conscripts  should  have 
been  assembled,  drilled,  disciplined  and  educated  in  the 
art  of  war,  preparatory  to  being  sent  into  active  service. 
Had  this  been  done,  the  losses  which  the  army  is  now  sus- 
taing  could  he  filled  in  a day,  and  we  should  be  in  readi- 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


76 

ness  to  prosecute  a vigorous,  sweeping  and  successful 
summer's  campaign. 

But  I will  criticise  no  more.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  a 
good  and  wise  Providence  presides  over  the  elements,  for- 
ces, and  agents  of  this  struggle. 

I visited  the  camp  of  the  97th  yesterday  ; and  saw 
Lieuts.  Norton  and  Chamberlain.  They  are  well  and 
enjoying  themselves  gloriously.  In  fact,  a good  feeling 
pervades  the  whole  army,  notwithstanding  the  sweep 
which  death  has  made  through  its  ranks,  and  the  defeat 
that  has  come  upon  its  arms. 

I am  now  commanding  Co.  F,  Capt.  Wendell’s  old 
company.  He  was  killed  at  Chancellorsville,  you  know. 
I feel  considerably  flattered  by  my  transfer  ; for  although 
there  is  considerable  responsibility  resting  upon  my  should- 
ers, yet  I can  exercise  my  own  authority,  and  consequent- 
ly, take  more  pride  and  interest  in  my  company. 

I wish  that  I could  be  at  home  to  witness  all  the  scenes 
of  the  Anniversary  Exercises. 

I have  been  to  a great  many  theatres,  and  have  - seen 
the  first  comedies,  tragedies  and  dramas  of  the  world  of 
romance,  acted  by  the  most  illustrious  performers  of  our 
country.  I have  heard  some  of  the  most  accomplished 
orators,  of  which  the  century  can  boast,  pour  forth  the 
clear, silvery, yet  torrent-like  stream  of  resistless  eloquence  ; 
I have  been  in  a great  many  States,  and  have  seen  people 
play  all  the  different  parts  in  the  drama  of  real  life  ; but 
have  never  seen  anything  which  interests  me  so  much, 
which  awakens  more  happy  emotions  in  my  breast,  than 
the  Anniversary  Exercises  of  the  good  old  Institution  at 
Fairfield.  I know  that  the  troupe  now  acting  upon  its 
stage  will  add  neiv  lustre  to  its  ancient  fame. 


Clarke. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


77 


Banks  of  the  Rappahannock,  June  11,  1863. 

My  Dear  Brother  Charley  : 

Some  time  has  elapsed  since  I last  heard  from  you,  hut 
I trust  you  will  not  attribute  any  negligence  to  me  for 
my  delay  in  answering  you,  for  you  know  how  fickle  are 
all  the  winds  that  blow  over  a soldier’s  life  ; how  arbi- 
trary are  all  the  Fates  that  preside  over  our  fortunes,  that 
grant  us  our  privileges,  deal  us  our  cards,  give  us  our 
chances,  spoil  many  of  our  golden  purposes, — in  a word, 
mould  for  us  our  destinies.  In  times  ot  peace  and  at 
home,  often  are  our  happiest  life-dreams  scattered  like 
silver  mist  by  some  unseen  event ; our  fondest  wishes  are 
scorned  as  idle  longings,  and  our  choicest  purposes  are 
snatched  away  from  us  forever.  But  much  more  uncer- 
tain are  our  hopes,  and  prospects,  and  efforts,  and  plans, 
and  cherished  designs,  as  we  are  whirled  around  and 
around  in  the  eddying  sweeps  of  this  war’s  events.  The 
night  always  shrouds  the  morrow  in  a mystery  im- 
penetrable. “ Coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before 
the  hand  on  the  dial  follows  the  speeding  minutes  round  ; 
all  indications  are  like  the  weather  signs  of  spring,  full 
of  delusions.  Hence  the  passing  hour  is  without  any  out- 
lines of  its  future,  however  dim.  We  have  to  make  our 
plans  upon  a perfect  blank,  and  consequently  they  often 
prove  to  be  vain  and  impracticable.  We  are  as  liable  to 
defeats  as  to  successes  in  the  execution. 

Since  I last  wrote  you,  many  things  have  transpired,  all 
as  unexpected  as  they  are  full  of  interest.  Then  I could 
see  no  signs  of  a movement ; the  skies  seamed  swept  of 
every  storm-cloud  ; camp-life  was  moving  on  without  a 


78  LETTERS  AJSfR  WRITINGS  OF 

ripple  ; all  was  a quiet  as  a New  England  Sabbath.  But 
since  then  the  dark-visaged  War  Grods  have  been  aroused 
from  their  heavy  slumber.  The  solemn  silent  spell  which 
has  bound  them  since  the  banner  drooped  so  sadly  upon 
the  fields  of  Fredericksburg,  has  been  broken,  and  sweep- 
ing their  dark  desolating  wings  down  the  fair  Rappa- 
hannock valley,  where  so  many  shadow  spirits  are  hover- 
ing, they  fill  the  hills  and  low-lands  of  old  Stafford  once 
more  with  a deep,  steady  war-din,  like  the  sound  of  a 
resounding  sea-swell,  or  the  rush  of  a storm  through  the 
wilderness. 

Of  course  there  is  always  an  idea,  a some  thing  terrible 
in  the  stormy  hours  and  scenes  of  war  ; and  yet  we  have 
acquired  such  an  appetite  for  something  interesting,  ex- 
citing, and  decisive,  that  we  hail  with  rejoicing,  all  signs 
that  foreshadow  a battle,  or  point  to  some  decisive  change. 
Hence  we  were  glad  when  we  received  orders  to  pack  up  ; 
when  we  were  assured  that  we  were  going  to  cross  the 
Rappahannock  again  ; that  another  crisis  was  opening  be- 
tween the  boasted  giant  armies  of  the  land.  These  en- 
gagements, although  so  terrible,  so  full  of  wounds  and 
wails,  and  pains,  and  tears  ; though  death  hovers  over 
them  like  a great,  gaunt  vulture  over  its  prey,  yet  they 
have  a magic  power  to  charm,  a great  fascination, — and 
they  are  full  of  allurements,  full  of  rich  curiosities  which 
we  are  always  eager  to  get. 

I suppose  you  are  almost  as  well  acquainted  with  what 
has  been  done  down  here  as  we  soldiers  are  ourselves,  as 
every  act  now  has  a hundred  tongues  with  which  it  de- 
clares itself  to  the  public  ear.  Yet,  though  this  move- 
ment has  been  developing  itself  now  for  more  than  a week, 
there  is  a thick  mystery  hanging  around  it  still.  So  far 
only  the  Sixth  corps  seem  to  have  acted  a part.  We 
broke  up  camp  last  Friday,  and  our  corps  moved  out  up- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RfCE.  79' 

on  the  high  bluffs,  which  overlook  the  wide  beautiful  val- 
ley of  the  river.  The  column  halted  and  rested  there  till 
toward  evening,  when  the  2d  Division,  (Hough’s)  march- 
ed down  upon  the  plain,  right  in  plain  sight  of  the  enemy, 
and  planted  their  batteries  upon  the  river’s  hank.  The 
engineer  corps  then  commenced  to  lay  their  pontoons,  hut 
the  rebel  Sharpshooters  harrassed  them,  so  that  they  were 
obliged  to  fall  hack  upon  another  expedient.  All  of  our 
batteries  were  opened  upon  the  rifle-pits  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river,  which  were  full,  and  the  fire  was  so  incessant 
— so  sweeping, — so  destructive,  that  the  rebels  did  not 
dare  to  raise  their  heads  above  the  pit  banks.  Under  the 
protection  of  this  fire  our  men  lowered  their  boats  into  the 
water,  and  rowed  across  to  the  other  side.  This  artillery 
fire  was  kept  up  until  three  or  four  regiments  had  crossed 
over,  and  formed  in  line  of  battle  on  the  other  side.  Then 
all  at  once  a signal  was  sounded,  and  the  firing  ceased, 
and  this  line  of  battle  made  one  the  finest  charges  upon 
those  rifle  pits,  known  in  the  history  of  the  war.  The 
rebels  had  not  time  to  recover  from  the  shock  which  they 
had  received  from  our  cannonading,  and  being  in  a perfect 
state  of  confusion  and  chaos,  were  unable  to  make  the 
feeblest  resistance.  Some  throwing  down  their  arms 
rushed  over  the  works,  and  gave  themselves  up.  Others 
essayed  to  fly,  and  were  shot  down.  But  the  majority 
lay  down  behind  the  embankments,  and  like  helpless  sup-' 
pliants,  cried  for  mercy  and  protection.  Thus  once  more 
our  great  army  gained  a foot-hold,  a firm  foot-hold  upon 
the  hostile  bank,  where  twice  it  had  stood  before,  and 
twice  had  been  beaten  back.  Nothing  could  have  been 
done  more  handsomely — nothing  could  have  shown  better 
the  superiority  of  northern  valor  and  northern  strategy. 
This  crossing  was  effected  where  Franklin  crossed  last 
December,  about  half  a mile  below  the  city.  Skirmish- 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


80 

ers  were  sent  out,  and  they  cleared  the  plain  in  front,  as 
far  as  the  Richmond  turn  pike,  a mile  from  the  river,  and 
on  the  right  flank  down  to  what  is  called  Deep  Run,  and 
on  the  left  flank  up  to  the  Bernard  House.  Here  our 
picket  line  was  established,  and  still  is,  forming  the  cir- 
cumference of  a semi-circle  of  about  a mile  and  half  in 
extent.  There  our  division,  (the  First), now  Glen.  Wright’s, 
relieved  the  2d  on  Sunday  night,  and  held  the  position 
till  last  night,  when  we  were  relieved  by  the  3d  division, 
and  moved  over  on  this  side  of  the  river.  While  we  were 
over  there,  there  was  a good  deal  of  skirmishing  and  can- 
nonading, hut  without  much  loss.  We  suffered  mainly 
from  their  sharp-shoo  ters  who  were  secreted  in  little  pits, 
and  against  which  our  shots  could  not  take  effect.  While 
we  were  over  there,  we  built  up  the  strongest  earthworks 
I ever  saw,  curving  from  one  point  on  the  river  around  a 
mill,  across  the  plain,  and  striking  its  right  bank  again, 
a mile  from  the  other  point.  This  will  protect  our  men 
from  all  the  cannonading  of  the  rebels,  from  the  cannon 
mounted  upon  the  heights  beyond,  and  behind  which 
they  could  sweep  down  a hundred  lines  of  battle,  if  the 
enemy  is  foolish  enough  to  hurl  themselves  against  the 
fortifications  This  shows  that  our  Generals  are  either 
determined  to  hold  their  position,  or  are  trying  to  make 
a feint,  by  which  to  cover  some  other,  and  grander  under- 
taking. 

As  I said  before,  I cannot  tear  away  the  veil  of  mys- 
tery which  conceals  the  whole  play.  I feel  assured  in 
saying,  however,  that  it  is  not  designed  to  try  to  carry 
the  heights  again  at  this  point.  By  the  time  you  get 
this,  I ] (resume  fuller  developements  will  have  been  made 
and  we  shall  know  what  is  the  great  design  and  the  result 
of  it.  At  present  the  air  is  full  of  idle  rumors.  In  all 
the  confusion  of  voices  that  breaks  upon  our  ears  we  can 
sift  out  no  positive  intelligence. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


81 

It  is  said  that  some  part  of  the  army  has  already  start- 
ed for  the  Peninsula,  with  the  view  of  co-operating  with 
the  forces  there,  in  a grand  campaign  against  the  capital 
of  the  rebellion.  This  really  looks  plausible.  The  plan 
looks  feasible,  and  I confidently  hope  that,  ere  long,  some 
glorious  achievement  will  bring  honor  to  our  arms  and 
gladness  to  the  hearts  of  the  people. 

Charlie,  I wish  you  were  here  with  me  to-day.  I 
think  you  would  acknowledge  yourself  privileged  to  look 
upon  one  of  the  most  interesting,  the  most  charming,  the 
most  awfully  sublime  scenes  of  this  century.  Don’t  thick 
me  extravagant  or  boasting  ; for  surely  no  words  of  hu- 
man tongue  can  swell  the  voices  of  Nature  and  of  War, 
that  are  sounding  around  me.  No  touch  of  fancy  can 
add  a single  tinge  to  the  grand  scene  of  destiny  spread 
out  before  me. 

I am  sitting  upon  the  brink  of  a range  of  bluffs,  which 
stretches  for  miles  up  and  down  the  river,  and  towers  up 
perpendicularly  two  hundred  feet  from  the  line  of  the 
plain.  The  point  where  I sit  is  mounted  with  heavy 
siege  guns,  and  back  of  the  left  borders  of  the  city  of 
Fredericksburg,  and  within  a stone’s  throw  of  its  deserted 
streets.  The  valley  of  the  Rappahannock  stretches  out 
from  the  foot  of  these  heights  to  the  foot  of  the  hills  be- 
yond, which  are  whitened  with  the  tented  homes  of  ninety 
thousand  traitors,  where  prowls  the  rebel  army  with  its 
enginery  of  death,  frowning  upon  us,  and  every  height 
blazing  with  ten  thousand  camp-fires,  flashing  the  light 
of  hostility  in  our  eyes. 

The  valley  is  about  two  and  a half  miles  in  width,  not 
appearing  to  be  half  that  distance  from  one  range  to  the 
other,  and  stretches  up  and  down  the  river  in  the  dim 
distance  like  the  smooth  level  of  the  sea.  The  silvery 
river  winds  its  meandering  way  down  through  the  middle 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OP 


82 

of  that  fertile  plain.  How  beautifully  it  looks — that 
deep,  noiseless,  crystal  stream,  flowing  down  through  that 
luxuriant  valley  ! The  Po,  in  the  valley  of  Piedmont, 
historic  with  all  the  golden  memories  of  immortal  Italy, 
whereat  the  genius  of  Carthage  sat  and  made  old  Rome 
tremble  for  her  security,  shall  not,  down  in  the  future, 
occupy  a more  conspicuous  place  in  history  than  the  Rap- 
pahannock, with  the  valley  of  Stafford.  I can  sit  here 
and  see  distinctly  all  the  movements  of  our  forces  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  and  also  the  movements  of  the  en- 
emy. It  would  seem  that  they  wanted  to  come  down  on 
our  little  division,  but,  not  daring  to  do  that,  only  keep 
themselves  in  readiness  to  defend  their  own  cherished 
stronghold. 

We  can  see  quite  distinctly  what  are  said  to  be  Gen. 
Lee’s  headquarters  ; also  those  of  Gen.  Longstreet,  who 
has  two  corps  massed  just  behind  the  city  and  along  the 
Gordonsville  road.  The  city  looks  lonely  and  forlorn 
enough.  Really  the  genius  of  that  old  town  of  prosperi- 
ty, and  wealth,  and  fashion,  and  aristocracy,  is  bowed 
down  in  sackcloth  and  ashes.  It  is  crushed  with  the 
retributions  which  its  life-long  sins  have  brought  up- 
on it.  The  people  have  almost  all  deserted  it,  except  the 
very  poorest  and  some  colored  people.  I remember  it  as 
one  of  the  finest  cities  of  our  country,  in  all  the  elements 
a city’s  worth,  before  the  war  began.  But  now  the  hum 
of  life  is  hushed,  the  houses  are  vacant,  windows  broken, 
doors  unhinged,  fences  in  ashes, mills  in  dilapidation,  and 
grass  growing  on  the  streets.  Such  is  Fredericksburg  to- 
day. But  it  was  once  a beautiful  place,  and  some  of  its 
fine  features  linger  yet,  only  as  the  sad  characters  of  its 
epitaph.  The  celebrated  Washington  farm  is  in  sight — 
the  finest  farm  I ever  saw  in  my  life  ; also  the  Fitzhugh 
farm  where  Gen.  Lee  married  his  wife.  It  is  now  called 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


83 

the  Barnard  House,  of  which  I have  spoken.  But  it  is 
now  in  ruins.  It  must  have  been  one  of  the  finest  houses 
in  the  country  in  its  day,  and  built  according  to  the  style 
of  feudal  times.  The  memories  which  linger  around  these 
places  give  to  reality  all  the  interest  and  charm  of  ro- 
mance. 

Well,  Charlie,  I can  only  wish  you  were  here  to  see 
all  these  line  things,  all  these  wonders,  all  these  charms. 

What  do  the  people  think  of  Gen.  Hooker  now  ? — 
Have  they  lost  their  confidence  in  him  ? I hope  not. — 
Tuesday  he  rode  up  and  down  our  lines,  and  stopped  very 
near  where  I was  standing.  So  I had  a grand  opportu- 
ty  to  scan  him.  I had  seen  him  before,  but  so  far  off1,  I 
could  not  get  much  of  an  impression  concerning  him. 
But  now  I can  truly  say,  that  he  is  one  of  the  finest  look- 
ing men  I ever  saw.  He  is  a very  tall  man,  well  propor- 
tioned, with  high  massive  square  head,  bright  black  locks 
and  healthy  red  cheeks.  He  has  all  the  military  airs,  as 
much  so  as  McClellan,  and  at  the  same  time,  appears 
much  more  intelligent  and  active.  His  head  is  higher 
than  Mac’s  and  not  so  round.  I was  happily  disappoint- 
ed in  him.  I have  more  confidence  in  him  to-day,  than  I 
had  before  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg,  nothwithstand- 
the  popular  clamor  against  him.  There  is  one  thing  he 
can  do  better  than  any  other  General  in  this  country.  He 
can  keep  his  own  counsels.  Even  the  corps  commanders 
did  not  know  of  this  movement,  until  they  received  the 
order  to  march  doivn  to  the  river.  This  spirit  of  inde- 
pendence is  the  best  sign  of  Genius  and  Power.  I wrote 
you  about  coming  down  here  in  vacation.  I was  glad  to 
hear  that  you  would  come.  * * * 

You  will  have  no  trouble  in  getting  a pass  in  Washing- 
ton at  the  Provost  Marshal’s  office.  If  we  are  still  in  this 
part  of  Virginia,  you  will  procure  one  for  Falmouth. — 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


84 

Write  to  me  all  the  news,  as  soon  as  you  receive  this — 
all  about  the  last  day’s  exercises,  and  what  you  can  con- 
sistently, of  your  Public.  How  well  I would  like  to  he 
up  there.  As  well  would  I like  to  go  in  the  way  I had 
laid  out,  before  I enlisted.  I cannot  think  of  chang- 
ing my  soldier’s  life  for  it  now,  f hope  not,  till  the  last 
cannon  booms  forth  the  last  roar  of  war.  I hope  Caro- 
line and  Nancy  will  be  home  in  time  to  enjoy  the  exer- 
cises. Give  my  love  to  Father  and  Mother,  and  to  Elea- 
zer’s  family.  Give  my  best  regards  to  all  the  people  of 
the  old  village,  and  accept  this  from 


Clarke. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


85 


Camp  near  Bull  Run  Battle-field, 
June  22d,  1862. 

My  Dear  Parents  : «■ 

Though  hut  a few  days  have  elapsed  since  I last  wrote 
you,  yet  as  I have  a few  leisure  moments  at  command,  I 
hasten,  with  a glad  heart,  to  improve  them,  by  writing 
you  a few  lines  again.  You  can  never  imagine  what  joy, 
and  moral  strength,  your  last  letter  imparted  to  me.  I 
had  begun  almost  to  despair  of  hearing  again  from  you 
directly,  and  consequently,  it  was  made  doubly  welcome 
by  the  surprise.  It  seems  to  have  been  ordained,  and 
wisely  I think,  that  children’s  appreciation  of  parental 
kindness,  strengthens,  as  time  and  distance,  expand  be- 
tween us.  The  affections,  which  stretch  down  through 
the  human  race,  linking  together  the  responsive  hearts  of 
generations,  are  always  tuned,  and  ever  unbroken.  They 
are  full  of  natural  music  ; they  tingle  with  the  vital  cur- 
rent of  the  soul.  But  it  is  only  the  finger-sweeps  of  the 
outer  world,  that  can  make  them  sound  forth  the  deepest 
harmony,  and  sympathy  of  our  better  lives.  A kind  word 
is  never  so  sweet,  as  when  uttered,  while  harsh  sounds 
are  grating  upon  our  ears.  The  sunshine  is  never  so 
pleasant,  as  when  the  storm-clouds  have  just  rolled  away. 
A smile  is  never  so  charming,  as  when  it  falls  upon  us, 
from  beneath  some  dark,  heavy  frown.  Friends  are  al- 
ways dearest,  when  enemies  are  nearest. 

Well,  we  have  passed  through  some  interesting  scenes, 
since  you  heard  from  me  last,  though  the  time  is  quite 
short.  Then  we  were  on  picket,  and  some  of  our  corps 
lay  on  the  southern  side  of  the  Rappahannock,  and  look- 
ed defiantly  upon  the  frowning  heights,  that  had  stayed 


8$  LETTERS  4P  WRITINGS  OF 

the  advance  of  our  army,  for  more  than  six  months.  But 
now  they  are  encamped,  temporarily,  upon  the  historic 
ground,  made  sacred  by  the  blood  of  more  than  ten  thou- 
sand patriot  martyrs.  You  may  be  assured,  that  though 
there  are  many  hardships  attending  our  wayward  pilgrim- 
age, yet  it  affords  us  a great  deal  of  satisfaction,  and  in- 
terest, to  visit  these  hallowed  Meccas  of  our  blood-wash- 
ed land.  You  can  hardly  imagine  what  emotions,  what 
deep  feelings  of  mingled  sadness  and  gladness,  swell  up 
in  our  breasts,  as  we  tread  the  consecrated  soil,  where  so 
many  of  our  gallant  soldier  brothers  have  bravely  fought, 
and  resolutely  suffered,  and  willingly  laid  down  their  lives, 
in  tho  cause  of  Country,  and  Liberty,  and  Humanity. 
You  will  remember  that  I said  in  my  last  letter,  that  a, 
deep  mystery,  hung  upon  the  movement  then  on  the  tapis, 
and  hence,  I could  not  even  guess  concerning  the  issues, 
which  might  be  developed,  in  the  progress  of  it.  You 
know,  that  though  we  are  right  in  the  scenes  of  action, 
yet  we  can  only  look  upon  the  military  board,  from  a very 
low  stand  point.  This  accounts  for  the  many  errors  in 
our  prophecies.  After  our  division  was  relieved,  concern- 
ing which  I wrote  you,  our  brigade  was  sent  out  on  pick- 
et, along  the  river,  and  down  towards  King  Gieorge’s  Court 
House.  We  had  been  on  duty  for  two  days,  when,  about 
11  o’clock  at  night,  we  received  orders  to  draw  in  our 
pickets,  and  make  our  way  as  best  we  could,  through  the 
darkness,  and  the  wilderness,  to  White  Oak  Church, 
where  the  brigade  was  being  assembled,  for  the  purpose 
of  bringing  up  the  rear  of  the  great  retreating  army  of 
the  Potomac.  We  all  arrived  there  about  one  o’clock, 
and  then  marching  till 

“Jocund  day  stood  tiptoe 

On  the  misty  mountain  tops,’, 

we  halted  for  the  day,  on  the  Potomac  Creek.  The  whole 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKft  RICE.  87 

army,  or  this  wing  of  it,  had  passed  on,  and  our  division 
was  thus  left  behind,  to  guard  the  endless  baggage  train, 
which  now,  like  a pilgrim  procession,  was  slowly  winding 
its  way,  in  its  northward  course,  through  the  deep,  dark 
defiles,  and  over  the  broad,  desolate  sweeps  of  Old  Vir- 
ginia. We  rested  until  we-  saw  the  last  wagon  of  this 
great  train  file  past  us,  as  it  rolled  the  dry  dust  back  upon 
the  fields  it  had  deserted,  and  then  we  fell  in  line,  and 
marched  all  night.  We  arrived  at  Stafford  Court  House, 
by  early  day-break,  and  then  halted  for  an  hour.  Then 
we  marched  till  9 o’clock,  when  we  halted  again  till  11 
o’clock.  The  column  was  formed  again,  and  headed  to- 
wards Dumfries,  on  the  Potomac.  This  was  one  of  the 
warmest  days,  of  which  I have  any  remembrance,  and  be- 
fore the  night  shades  fell  around,  its  prostrating  heat  laid 
many  a poor  soldier,  panting  and  helpless,  by  the  way- 
side.  It  was  a forced  march,  as  our  General  had  orders 
to  report  at  Dumfries  by  three  o’clock.  No  time  was  to 
be  lost.  It  was  apparently,  a case  of  emergency  and  of 
necessities  of  war,  more  pressing  than  circumstances  of 
nature.  Onward  we  pushed,  without  rest,  without  wat- 
er, without  shade,  without  a single  cool  breath  of  air, 
with  nothing  but  burning  dust,  and  scorching  sun,  and 
heated  air,  and  hot  sandy  plains,  and  barren  hills, 
and  deep,  wide  channels,  without  any  murmuring  streams, 
till  at  last,  blindness  fell  upon  the  poor,  weary,  foot-sore 
soldiers,  and  one  by  one,  yet  thick  and  fast,  they  dropped 
by  the  way-sides.  Yet  we  moved  on,  until  we  had  not 
half  a dozen  in  each  company.  Then  it  became  a case  of 
necessity  to  halt,  which  was  done.  In  two  or  three  hours 
a great  portion  of  them  joined  us  again.  Some  were  not 
able  then.  Some  will  never  be.  A few,  alas  ! too  many  ! 
lie  where  they  fell,  without  a requiem,  and  without  a tomb 
stone  to  mark  their  resting  places.  The  marching  after 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


88 

after  that  day  was  comparatively  easy.  We  are  now  rest- 
ing in  a very  fine  situation,  and  enjoying  ourselves,  as 
soldiers  only  can.  We  are  not  far  from  Fairfax  Court 
House, and  right  on  the  ground  where  was  fought  the  junior 
battle  of  Bull  Run.  Many  a crude  mound, scattered  here 
and  there,  exist,  as  some  of  the  lingering  traces  of  that 
awful  visitation,  and  show  us  where  sleep,  and  sweetly 
sleep,  so  many  of  our  lost  patriot-soldiers.  I do  not  know 
much  about  the  position  of  the  army,  and  still  less  of  the 
plans,  designs  and  purposes,  of  our  leading  Generals. — 
But  I have  still  great  confidence  in  them.  I think  that 
Lee  has  been  defeated  in  his  darling  project  against  Wash- 
ington. I believe  that  a righteous  destiny  presides  over 
this  struggle,  and  that  we  shall  triumph  if  we  deserve  to. 
Then  why  despair  ? I suppose  you  will  see  Nancy  and 
Caroline  soon.  Urge  them  to  write  to  me.  I am  anxi- 
ously awaiting  Charley’s  coming.  He  will  keep  watch  of 
the  movements  of  the  Army,  and  then  wfill  procure  his 
pass  accordingly,  from  Washington.  I think  he  will  have 
no  trouble  in  procuring  one.  If  he  could  get  in  company 
with  some  one  coming  down  here  it  would  be  better.  But 
I must  close.  I fear  you  wil  have  trouble  to  read  this, 
but  in  your  trouble,  have  patience  for  me.  Give  my  love 
to  all  and  accept  this  from. 


Clarke. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


89 


Edward’s  Ferry,  June  29th,  1863.  • 

i 

Dear  Brother  and  Sister  : 

A good  while  has  elapsed  since  I last  wrote  to  you, hut 
a longer  time  since  I have  heard  from  you  directly.  To- 
night we  find  ourselves  safe  on  the  Maryland  side  of  the 
Potomac.  It  is  with  mingled  feelings  of  satisfaction  and 
humiliation,  that  we  realize  this  fact  ; of  satisfaction,  be- 
cause our  army  has  been  moved  so  quickly,  and  so  safely, 
from  the  Wilderness  of  the  Old  Dominion  into  a land  un- 
polluted hy  Rebellion,  into  a land  where  we  find  some 
assurance  of  devotion  to  the  cause  of  our  suffering  coun- 
try ; of  humiliation,  because  this  great  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac, the  best  disciplined,  and  the  most  enthusiastic  the 
world  has  ever  seen,  after  having  prosecuted  an  active 
warfare  for  eight  eventful  months,  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  enemy’s  country,  now  finds  the  tables  turned,  and  it- 
self under  the  sad  necessity  of  falling  back  before  the  bold 
columns  of  the  advancing  foe,  in  order  to  save  the  Capi- 
tal of  the  Nation,  from  an  ignominous  doom,  and  to  pro- 
tect the  fair  fields,  and  the  beautiful  cities,  the  family 
firesides  and  household  Gods  of  our  Northern  homes, from 
the  torch  and  the  desecrating  hand  of  the  invader.  This 
is  an  awful  fact  to  realize,  yet  I think  it  a sad  one,  more 
on  account  of  its  relation  to  the  past,  than  its  relation  to 
the  future.  Though  the  past  is  full  of  dark  heavy  clouds, 
of  many  misfortunes,  of  great  losses,  of  awful  disaster,  and 
of  little  sunshine,  and  of  victories  few,  yet  I do  not  think 
the  signs  of  to-day,  are  without  many  bright  indications, 
considering  the  circumstances,  which  surrounded  the  ar- 
' 12 


90 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


my  and  the  country,  when  this  campaign  was  opened.  I 
am  inclined  to  think,  that  this  audacious,  and  apparently 
successful  move  of  the  enemy,  will  give  us  the  greatest 
chance  for  a grand  victory,  and  eventuate  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  Confederate  Army.  It  had  become  very  evi- 
dent, even  to  the  blindest,  that  it  would  be  impracticable 
to  move  on  against  the  Rebel  Capital,  from  the  Rappa- 
hannock, and  it  was  equally  evident,  that  our  position 
was  very  weak  and  utterly  untenable,  as  our  army  could 
be  easily  outflanked,  and  our  falling  back  became  a ne- 
cessity by  the  slightest  menace  on  Washington.  Now  we 
find  the  enemy  out  from  behind  his  strong-holds,  and  as 
he  has  presumed  to  organize*  a campaign  of  invasion,  and 
conquest  and  finally  has  dragged  his  long  length  across 
the  Potomac,  I cannot  see  what  there  is  to  prevent  our 
cutting  off  and  making  his  retreat  impossible,  and  cover- 
ing him  with  ruin,  before  the  autumn  leaves  begin  to  fall. 
I feel  that  this  is  the  grandest  chance  of  the  hour,  and 
that  its  glory  shall  be  ours,  if  our  Generals  only  prove 
themselves  equal  to  the  emergency.  What,  though  the 
place  differs,  if  we  can  only  make  the  fields  which  are  des- 
ecrated, the  glorious  battle-ground  and  the  grave  yard  of 
the  foe.  I think  that  we  should  make  the  ruin  of  the 
rebel  army  more  our  object  than  the  taking  of  Richmond, 
for  Lee’s  army  is  the  life  of  the  Rebellion,  and  if  we  can 
destroy  it,  the  conspiracy  will  be  but  a corpse.  And  it 
seems  to  me  too,  that  our  forces  on  the  Peninsula  ought 
to  seize  this  golden  opportunity,  and  move  to  the  reduc- 
tion of  that  modern  Babylon.  Perhaps  they  will.  I re- 
ally hope  so.  It  is  rumored  that  Gen.  Hooker  has  re- 
signed. I am  sorry  to  hear  it,  for  I think  he  has  mani- 
fested more  military  ability,  than  any  other  Generals  that 
have  yet  held  the  destinies  of  the  Potomac  Army.  I un- 
derstand that  Hooker  resigned  because  Halleck  would  not 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


91 

let  him  engage  Lee  at  Fairfax.  I am  enjoying  good  health 
notwithstanding  we  are  marching  from  twenty  to  fifty 
miles  per  day.  All  the  boys  are  in  good  health,  and  fine 
spirits.  I am  glad  Charlie  is  coming  down  here.  I 
know  he  will  learn  a good  deal,  and  just  as  soon  as  we 
halt  he  will  have  a good  position.  If  we  go  up  into  Penn- 
sylvania, I guess  he  had  better  come  to  Harrisburgh,  and 
then  he  can  find  where  we  are.  Accept  this  from 

Clarke. 


92 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


tfc 


Camp  in  Warrenton,  Va.,  July  30th,  1863. 

Mi  Dear  Brother  Charley  : 

Nothing’ could  have  disappointed  me  more,  or  brought 
with  it  more  sorrow  and  sadness,  than  did  the  tidings  that 
you  had  come  so  near  me,  only  to  be  turned,  without  any 
of  the  fine  enjoyments  which  we. had  so  long  anticipated. 
For  a good  many  weeks,  I had  been  looking  forward, with 
the  brightest  hopes,  to  the  time  when  I might  welcome 
you  to  the  soldier  home,  and  when  we  might  again  unite 
the  golden  ties  of  association  which  the  hand  of  this  cruel 
war  had  so  abruptly  broken  asunder.  But  all  is  un- 
certainty in  times  like  these,  when  revolutions  are  sweep- 
ing through  the  world,  and  states  are  swaying  to  and  fro, 
like  shipmasts  in  a tempest.  The  great  landmarks  by 
which  we  had  so  long  directed  our  course  have  fallen  to 
the  ground,  and  we  are  now  wayward  wanderers  upon  a 
desert,  not  knowing  whither  we  are  goin.  So,  of  course, 
we  must  expect  that  some  of  our  reckonings  will  fall 
short  of  a realization,  and  leave  us  to  grieve  in  the  lurch 
of  disappointment  and  misfortune. 

Since  I became  assured  that  you  Avere  compelled  to  re- 
turn home,  I have  tried  to  look  at  it  in  as  favorable  a 
light  as  possible,  but  consolation  for  the  disappointment 
harly  ever  comes  to  view.  We  are  lying  in  line  of  battle 
near  Hagarstown,  momentarily  expecting  to  be  ordered  to 
open  upon  the  enemy,  Avith  the  determination  of  crushing 
the  rebel  army,  or  of  driving  them  into  the  Potomac. 

When  I first  saw  John  Gray,  and  he  told  me  of  your 
ill  luck  in  trying  to  get  a pass,  I Avas  much  grieved,  yet 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


93 

I trust  your  journey  to  the  great  capital  and  back  again 
was  not  wholly  in  vain  or  entirely  without  its  good  re- 
sults. I have  reason  to  think  that  you  saw,  and  heard, 
and  learned  enough  of  public,  political  and  military  life, 
to  fully  repay  you  for  all  the  material  expenditures  that 
you  were  obliged  to  make. 

It  is  one  of  the  rarest  opportunities  for  a young  man, 
no  older  than  you,  to  see  so  much  of  life,  so  many  of  our 
country’s  great  wonders.  What  real  objects  we  actually 
see  in  the  world’ s great  theater,  we  always  remember ; 
what  public  scenes  we  actually  see  enacted  upon  the  great 
stage  we  never  forget,  not  even  their  minutest  details. — 
They  form  the  world’s  philosophy,  the  thread  of  history, 

. and  they  are  always  in  our  minds.  We  can  hitch  these 
threads  to  the  shuttles  of  our  own  thoughts,  and  thus 
weave  them  into  our  own  theories.  When  we  travel 
through  the  country  and  mingle  with  all  sorts  of  men, 
and  look  upon  all  the  ten  thousand  phases  of  life,  we  can 
gather  up  a multitude  of  facts,  electrify  them  with  .our 
brains,  and  send  them  flying  messengers  through  society. 
The  world  is  our  spheres  and  how  can  we  direct  our  forces 
to  meet  its  requisitions,  unless  we  wander  out  into  it  to 
see  what  claims  it  has  upon  us,  what  duties  we  owe,  what 
privileges  we  possess,  what  chances  we  can  find,  what 
courses  there  are  to  follow,  what  goals  there  are  to  gpin, 
and  what  fortunes  to  be  made.  Men  who  never  sally  in- 
to the  world,  if  ordinary  by  birth,  will  never  be  larger 
than  the  cradles  in  which  they  were  rocked.  If  they  nat- 
urally have  strong  and  active  minds,  they  will  but  be 
vain  dreamers  and  extravagant  idealists,  to  whom  the 
world  is  a mighty  phantom,  and  life  but  a passing  dream. 
To  them,  events  come  and  go,  not  as  living  realities,  but 
as  flitting  shadows  on  the  wall.  We  know  the  world  only 
by  coming  in  contact  with  it,  and  if  we  touch  it  on  every 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


94 

side,  our  knowledge  of  it  will  be  nearly  perfect,  our  ideas 
as  broad  as  the  world,  our  plans  covering  the  wide  sweep 
of  life.  No  human  being  will  be  obliged  to  stand  out  in 
the  cold,  under  the  dripping  eave-drops  of  our  charity. 
No  blanks  would  be  found  in  the  great  record  of  our  days 
upon  the  earth. 

Well,  Charley,  since  I last  wrote,  we  have  had  some 
very  fine  times,  and  others  not  so  much  to  our  peculiar 
liking.  Yet  we  have  no  fault  to  find,  as  we  have  fared 
better  than  we  might  have  expected.  We  have  accom- 
plished a good  many  long  marches,  and  1 hope  we  have 
done  good  enough,  to  cover  all  our  hardships.  After  the 
battle  of  Gettysburg,  our  corps  "as  pushed  forward,  to 
attack  the  rear  of  the  retreating  eD  iy.  We, (I  use  the 
first  person  in  writing,  not  egotistica  " hut  as  a matter 
of  convenience,)  pressed  them  pretty  'y  for  about 
eight  miles,  taking  a few  wagons  of  ti.  rain  and  a 
good  many  prisoners.  Here  the  corps  halt  ’ j wrong- 
ly I fhink,  for  it  appears  that  we  might  havi  pressed  the 
whole  of  Ewell’s  corps  to  the  wall,  had  we  not  been  so  slow 
and  cautious.  Such  sights  we  ngver  saw  before,  as  fell 
under  our  observation  that  day.  As  soon  as  we  had  pass- 
ed over  the  battle-fields,  we  came  upon  the  spot  where  all 
the  divisions  of  the  rebel  army  were  brought  together  from 
their, positions  in  the  fight,  arid  joined  in  the  column  of 
retreat.  Every  farm-house  and  barn  for  five  miles  around 
bore  the  little  “red  flag”  upon  its  gable  end.  Every  floor, 
and  every  room,  were  crowded  with  rebel  wounded,  and 
every  house  was  surrounded  by  quite  a little  tented  vil- 
lage, which  the  rebels  had  left  standing  to  cover  their 
helpless  companions.  Besides,  they  obliged  all,  who  could 
£ro  on  account  of  their  wounds,  to  march  with  them,,  and 
they  filled  their  ambulances  with  a thousand  more.  They 
made  the  country  a perfect  desolation,  sweeping  it  of  all 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


95 

the  land-marks  of  its  former  prosperity,  and  trampling 
all  of  its  growing  harvests  beneath  the  accursed  foot  of 
invasion.  None  of  the  rules  of  civilized  warfare  were  res- 
pected. They  were  wont  to  enter  the  quiet  homes  of  un- 
offending families,  pillaging  them  of  the  last  morsel  of 
bread,  and  even  laying  their  sacr-iligious  hands  upon  their 
most  cherished  house-hold  gods. 

As  I said,  the  corps  halted  at  night,  near  Fairfield,  and 
we  had  a good  rest.  But  early  next  morning,  before  day- 
light, our  regiment  was  aroused,  who  with  a squadron  of 
cavalry,  were  sent  out  skirmishing.  We  had  not  advanc- 
ed far,  before  we  fell  upon  the  rear-guard  of  the  rebels, 
which  was  pretty  stron  g,  and  it  was  not  without  pretty 
hard  fighting,  that  •-  succeeded  in  driving  them  from 
their  position,  ant1- dressing  them  onward  in  the  retreat. 
We  shir  mi  si.  1 wi  about  3 o’clock,  having  pushed  for- 
ward f ir  old  'H'u'Viiiles,  when  we  were  relieved,  and  sent 
back  to  - .ofainder  of  the  corps.  That  was  a pretty 
hard  day’s  sork.  But  we  had  not  beeu  in  camp  many 
minutes,  when  orders  came  to  pack  up  immediately,  and 
be  ready  to  move  at  a moment’s  notice.  Soon  we  were 
on  the  road.  We  marched  all  night,  reaching  Emmetts- 
burgh  at  day-light,  where  we  halted  for  an  hour  to  get 
coffee.  Emmettsburgh  is  a very  fine  city,  about  as  large 
as  Utica.  It  is  one  of  the  strongholds  of  Catholicism  in 
this  country.  It  has  both  a convent  and  a nunnery 
Promptly  as  the  hour  expired,  we  formed  the  line  of 
march  again,  and  marched  all  day  on  the  road  leading  to 
Frederick  city.  But  a little  before  dark  we  turned  off 
upon  a by-road,  which  Wound  around  through  lowlands, 
rocks,  and  woods,  to  the  base  of  the  Cotocton  Range  of 
the  South  Mountains.  By  this  time  it  was  as  dark  as  the 
shades  of  Erebus  could  make  it. 

Here  we  were,  artillery,  cavalry,  and  infantry,  all  jam 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


96 

med  in  together,  all  in  choas,  all  struggling  to  get  out, 
thereby  plunging  ten  times  deeper  into  difficulty.  The 
mountain  towered  up  before  us  in  the  darkness,  as  if  to 
touch  the  heavens.  The  narrow,  rocky,  shadowy  aisle 
winds  up  the  pass,  four  miles  before  it  reaches  the  height, 
and  wide  enough  for  us,  two  abreast,  and  thus  we  slowly, 
very  slowly,  pursued  our  weary,  nightly  course.  The 
higher  we  climbed,  the  darker  it  grew,  for  the  woods  grew 
denser  until  the  trees  on  either  side  of  our  narrow  way, 
interlocking  their  branches,  made  a perfect  archway  over 
our  heads.  Soon  it  began  to  rain,  and  it  poured  down  as 
I never  saw  it  before.  Of  course  it  became  very  muddy 
under  our  feet.  The  men  began  to  tire  out,  and  lay  down 
by  the  way-side,  with  nothing  to  cover  the  cold,  wet 
ground,  and  nothing  to  shelter  them  from  the  furious 
storm.  Yet  they  rested  and  slept  well,  being  so  com- 
pletely exhausted.  Still  we  saw  no  signs  of  stopping, 
and  still  we  moved  on.  Of  course  the  wayside  became 
lined  with  the  soldiers  who  had  done  their  best,  but  were 
not  equal  to  the  task.  By  midnight  we  stood  upon  the 
summit.  By  “we”  I mean  the  General,  Col.  Upton, 
some  other  officers  and  a few  men.  Some  officers  had  no 
men.  I had  only  six  left  in  my  company.  There  we 
stood.  It  was  midnight  ; it  rained  in  torrents  ; the 
mountain  winds  swept  coldly  through  the  cheerless  wood. 
The  ground  was  soaked  with  water.  We  were  dripping, 
and  covered  with  mud.  We  had  eaten  nothing  since  early 
morning,  and  were  very  hungry  ; we  had  had  no  rest,  and 
were  weary.  We  had  had  no  sleep,  and  were  sleepy.  But 
alas  ! we  had  nothing  to  eat  ; we  had  nothing  to  lie  on  ; 
we  had  nothing  to  cover  us.  A sorry  night  indeed,  but 
we  made  the  best  of  it.  We  lay  down  in  the  best  places 
we  could  find,  and.  though  it  rained  hard  all  night,  being 
so  tired,  we  slept  well,  and  in  the  morning  were  consider- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


97 

ably  rested.  That  clay  we  marched  to  Middletown,  a dis- 
tance of  eight  miles,  and  by  night  nearly  all  that  had  fal- 
len out  the  night  before,  had  come  up.  One  of  the  worst 
features  of  that  mountain  march,  was  the  great  number 
of  men  without  shoes.  In  our  heavy  marches  from  the 
Rappahannock  to  Gettysburg,  they  had  worn  their  shoes 
completely  in  pieces,  and  on  account  of  the  press  of  cir- 
cumstances, they  could  not  be  supplied.  They  suffered 
severely,  in  trying  to  walk  over  the  stones,  which  were  as 
bad  as  anywhere  in  Pine  Bush  country,  where  we  used  to 
go  black-berrying.  Next  day  went  to  Boonsborough,and 
then  by  degrees,  pushed  on  to  Hagerstown.  Then  was 
the  time  that  we  had  the  rebel  army  in  our  grasp,  and  I 
think  that  it  was  in  our  power,  to  bring  confusion  to  its 
ranks,  and  make  it  but  a wreck  of  its  former  self.  For 
three  days,  we  lay  in  line  of  battle,  in  plain  sight  of  the 
enemy,  our  lines  advancing,  as  they  slowly  contracted 
theirs,  and  fell  back  towards  the  ford.  For  two  days, 
the  two  extremes  of  our  army  rested  upon  the  Potomac, 
forming  a semi-circle,  which  could  be  described  with  a 
radius  of  three  miles  in  length,  and  the  enemy  lay  thus 
cooped  up,  helpless  to  save  itself,  should  we  make  an  at- 
tack, and  diligently  employing  every  expedient,  to  ensure 
a safe  retreat  across  the  river.  Did  we  not  have  it  in  our 
grasp  ? Were  we  extravagant  in  our  expectations  of  des- 
troying the  rebel  army  ? It  was  well  known  that  their 
ammunition  was  very  short  ; that  they  were  cut  off  from 
supplies,  and  that  the  “ morale ” of  their  army,  was  at  the 
lowest  ebl),  that  consternation  and  confusion  reigned  in 
their  midst,  and  that  hunger  and  exhaustion,  were  press- 
ing them  to  the  ground.  It  must  have  been  known  to  our 
Generals,  that  Lee  was  not  going  to  make  a stand  on  the 
Maryland  side  of  the  Potomac,  as  he  was  continually 
drawing  in  his  lines,  from  all  sides,  towards  Williamsport. 

13 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


98 

This  alone  was  evidence  enough,  that  he  was  intent  only 
on  making  good  his  escape.  Even  after  he  had  commenc- 
ed to  cross,  the  fact  was  found  out  by  our  scouts,  and 
duly  communicated  to  Headquarters.  Then  would  have 
been  just  the  time  to  make  the  attack,  from  all  points, 
and  compel  the  flying  remnant  to  lay  down  their  arms,  or 
plunge  them  into  the  river.  It  is  reported  that  General 
Pleasenton  thought  very  hard  of  Gen.  Meade,  because  he 
did  not  snatch  the  golden  opportunity,  and  win  for  him- 
self a name,  for  his  army  Victory,  and  for  his  country 
Peace.  I will  not  find  fault  with  Gen.  Meade,  I only  re- 
gret that  Gen.  Hooker  did  not  have  command  of  the  army, 
at  that  juncture  of  affairs.  For  judging  the  man  by  his 
past  career,  I cannot  think  that  he  would  not  have  been 
held  back,  with  an  anxious  army,  by  the  rear  guard  of  a 
beaten  and  flying  foe.  I do  not  think  I am  an  enthusiast 
in  my  confidence  in  Gen.  Hooker.  He  was  defeated  at 
Chancellorsville,  but  he  was  defeated,  not  by  the  enemy, 
but  by  circumstances,  against  which  no  man  could  have 
provided,  and  by  the  mismanagement  of  his  own  Gener- 
als. When  Lee  started  on  his  invasion  into  Maryland,  it 
is  said  that  Hooker  did  not  know  his  plans,  but  he  did  a 
good  deal  better  than  any  one  else,  and  provided  against 
them.  In  the  first  place,  Lee  sent  Ewell  up  into  the 
Shenandoah  Valley,  and  at  the  same  time  pretended  to  be 
withdrawing  all  his  forces  from  the  Heights  of  F redericks- 
burg.  He  also  started  Longstreet  northward.  His  object 
was,  to  draw  Hooker  clear  up  to  Harper’s  Ferry,  thus 
compelling  him  to  uncover  Washington.  Then  A.  P. 
Hill  with  the  main  division  of  the  rebels,  which  was  still 
behind  the  Heights,  was  to  come  up  in  Hooker’s  rear,  and 
make  a dash  upon  our  capital.  Gen.  Hooker  saw  this, 
and  hence  his  tardiness  in  evacuating  the  Rappahannock. 
He  found  out  that  the  whole  of  the  rebel  army  had  not 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


99 

set  out  towards  the  north,  and  that  Hill  was  there  alone. 
He  then  asked  permission  to  cross  the  Rappahannock, 
after  having  sent  the  12th  corps  up  to  Fairfax  Court 
House,  to  cover  Washington,  saying  that  he  could  fight 
Gen.  Hill  and  scatter  his  division  to  the  winds,  and  then 
move  his  army  up,  so  as  to  protect  the  capital,  before 
Ewell  and  Longstreet  could  get  to  it  by  the  way  of  Shen- 
andoah Valley.  But  Gen.  Halleck  forbade  him.  He 
then  moved  the  whole  army, with  a rapidity  unparallelled 
in  the  history  of  this  war,  up  and  around  Fairfax  Court 
House,  and  halted  for  a few  days.  This  act,  for  which  he 
has  been  censured  so  much,  defeated  the  plans  of  Lee, 
and  compelled  him  to  do  as  he  did.  It  was  not  the  orig- 
inal plan  of  Gen.  Lee  to  invade  Pennsylvania,  but  to  draw 
Hooker  from  the  covering  of  Washington,  and  to  throw 
one  of  his  divisions  upon  Alexandria,  and  our  capital. 
Hence  Gen.  Hooker  was  obliged  to  wait  at  Fairfax,  until 
all  the  rebel  army  had  passed  up,  by  the  gaps,  which 
opened  from  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  into  the  very  door- 
yard  of  Washington. 

When  he  had  defeated  their  plans,  and  saw  that  they 
had  jumped  upon  the  alternative  of  making  a general 
move  into  Pennsylvania,  he  organized  our  campaign,  the 
one  upon  which  we  acted,  the  one  in  which  we  were  vic- 
torious. That  campaign  Gen.  Hooker,  conceived  and  or- 
ganized, five  days  before  Gen.  Meade  took  command  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Who  then  deserves  the 
praise  ? After  he  had  done  this,  he  ordered  the  evacua- 
tion of  Harper’s  Ferry,  deeming  that  place  of  no  use  to 
us,  while  the  forces  there  would  swell  our  small  army  to 
proportions  equal  to  meet  the  superior  numbers  of  the  in- 
vading host.  But  this  order  was  revoked  by  Gen.  Hal- 
leck, who  said  it  would  not  do  to  evacuate  that  place 
which  had  cost  us  so  much,  and  that  he  regarded  it  as  the 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OP 


100 

“key  to  our  present  and  future  success.”  Gen.  Hooker 
responded,  “What  is  the  key  worth  after  the  door  has 
been  smashed  in  ?”  Other  orders  of  his  were  disregarded 
and  he  asked  to  be  relieved.  You  will  notice  that  they 
afterwards  saw  the  wisdom  of  his  plan,  when  they,  them- 
selves ordered  the  evacuation  of  the  same  place.  Hooker 
made  the  remark,  that,  “While  in  command  he  had  to 
fight  twenty-two  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  while  the 
enemy  had  to  fight  but  two  hours  in  the  same  time.” — 
That  shows  who  is  responsible  for  the  moves  of  this  great 
army. 

Well,  Charlie,  I had  begun  to  think  that  the  light  of 
day  was  about  to  dawn  upon  our  country  again,  but  when 
I see  those  dark  clouds  rising  up  from  the  North,  and 
spreading  so  fast  over  the  country,  I hardly  know  what  to 
think.  I am  prepared  for  the  worst  and  hope  for  the 
best.  I could  hardly  have  been  made  to  believe  that  our 
Government  would  ever  have  been  obliged  to  take  regi- 
ments from  the  small  and  weak  army  to  force  Northern 
Americans  out  into  the  field  to  defend  their  imperilled 
country.  Yet  such  is  the  case.  To-day  two  regiments 
from  this  division  were  sent  to  New  York  for  that  pur- 
pose. We  have  fallen  upon  sad  times  indeed,  and  al- 
though sad,  I still  hope  they  will  be  blessed.  I think 
those  riotous  manifestations  will  help  the  rebellion  very 
much. 

You  may  think  I have  changed  my  views  since  my  last 
letter.  I have,  I will  admit.  But  then  I had  not  heard 
that  the  spirit  of  resistance  prevailed  so  freely,  and  that 
it  received  so  much  countenance  from  the  chief  officials  of 
the  State. 

We  are  finely  located  at  present  within  a quarter  of  a 
mile  of  Warrenton.  This  is  the  very  finest  town  I have 
yet  seen  in  Virginia,  the  great  seat  of  aristocracy,  wealth 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


101 

and  what  is  called  Southern  refinement.  It  is  a place,  I 
should  think,  of  six  thousand  inhabitants,  all  bitter  se- 
cessionists and  absorbed,  heart  and  money,  in  the  rebel- 
lion. Of  course  no  business  is  done  here  but  by  Govern- 
ment authorities,  all  the  stores  and  manufactories  being- 
shut  up.  But  few  men  are  seen  ; they  are  all  serving 
the  rebellion,  either  upon  the  earth  or  below  it.  As  we 
wander  through  the  streets  we  cannot  fail  to  notice  how 
many  of  the  women,  who  are  strolling  about  the  yards, 
are  dressed  in  mourning.  This  is  an  emblem  of  some- 
thing worse  than  death — of  treason. 

And  it  is  interesting  to  notice  too,  as  we  march  through 
the  cities  and  villages  of  this  State,  that  the  many  slave- 
pens,  the  palaces  of  this  modern  Egypt,  are  all  vacant, 
all  deserted,  all  in  ruins.  Nothing  lingers  there,  but  per- 
haps the  ghosts  of  poor  slaves,  tortured  to  death.  The 
doors  are  all  knocked  in.  Moss  is  gathering  upon  the 
sill.  Daylight  gleams  into  the  furtherest  recesses.  We 
see  no  weeping  inmates  gazing  wistfully  through  the  iron 
grates.  These  are  the  lessons  of  this  war,  the  death  sen- 
tence ot  slavery.  So  you  see  they  are  not  all  written  in 
blood.  Even  now,  slavery  in  this  State,  is  but  a shadow 
of  its  former  self,  and  even  that  shall  not  darken  our 
country’s  history  much  longer.  What  tew  slaves  are  left, 
are  rapidly  coming  into  our  lines  to  seek  the  blessing  of 
manhood  beneath  the  AEgis  of  American  Liberty.  The  more 
I see  of  the  negro  race,  the  better  is  my  opinion  of  him. 
They  certainly  possess  many  superior  traits,  and  under 
the  sunshine  of  liberal  civilization,  will  yet  attain  to 
a higher  circle  in  the  family  of  man.  I do  not  know 
how  long  we  shall  remain  here.  I see  no  signs  of  moving 
yet.  Since  I have  been  here,  I have  had  to  work  pretty 
hard,  as  we  have  had  no  chance  to  do  anything  in  com- 
pany business,  since  we  started  from  the  Rappahannock. 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


102 

I have  had  to  make  out  the  pay  rolls,  and  two  quarterly 
returns,  and  settle  up  all  the  clothing  account  for  the  last 
quarter,  which  gave  me  all  I wanted  to  do.  Hereafter  I 
hope  to  have  more  time  to  write  home.  I wish  you  were 
with  me  now,  hut  as  we  are  liable  to  move  at  any  time,  I 
do  not  know  as  I could  ask  you  to  try  again,  fearing  you 
may  meet  with  some  ill-luck  as  before,  especially  as  the 
time  is  so  short,  between  now  and  the  proud  time  when 
you  will  go  to  college.  Let  me  encourage  you,  to  never 
falter  in  your  course,  never  yield  to  any  of  the  allurements 
that  will  continually  beset  your  pathway,  but  push  on  to 
goal  and  a great  reward  will  be  your  prize.  But,  Char- 
ley, I must  close,  and  you  must  excuse  the  many  short- 
comings of  this  letter,  as  I am  somewhat  tired  from  other 
duties.  I have  not  been  able  to  give  it  much  interest.  I 
wish  I could  say  more  to  cheer  and  encourage  you.  Give 
my  love  to  all,  and  for  me,  ask  each  and  every  one,  to 
remember  me  and  write  to  me  often.  My  thoughts  go 
out  to  them  every  day  and  every  hour,  and  nights  as  I 
sleep  soundly  upon  the  ground,  ten-thousand  busy  fan- 
cies, bring  their  images  to  my  mind.  Bemember  me  to 
all  the  good  neighbors  and  accept  this  from 
Your  Brother 

Clarke. 

It  will  be  seen  by  this  that  I had  been  disappointed  in  my  proposed 
visit  to  the  121st.  I staid  in  Washington  two  or  three  days,  but  as  the 
battle  of  Getty sburgh  was  going  on,  no  passes  were  granted,  so  I turned 
back  with  a heavy  heart. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


103 


0^?*  The  following  is  the  last  letter  ever  received  hy  our  parents,  and 
breathes  forth  that  heart-felt  devotion  toward  his  dearest  friends,  which 
always  marked  his  associations  with  them  : 

Camp  op  the  121st,  near  New  Baltimore, 
August  15th,  1863. 

My  Dear  Parents  : 

It  is  with  much  happiness,  that  I find  myself  possessed 
of  another  favorable  opportunity  to  write  you  a few  lines- 
Sometimes,  after  I have  waited  very  anxiously  for  a long 
time  to  hear  from  you,  and  when  it  seemed  that  you  were 
fast  forgetting  me,  and  cared  hut  little  to  keep  that  social 
correspondence,  which  has  been  such  a fruitful  source  of 
joy  to  me,  I have  almost  made  up  my  mind  that  I would 
retaliate  for  what  I deem  so  hard  in  you,  by  not  writing 
to  you  again  till  I heard  from  you.  Butsueh  retaliatory 
feelings  so  full  of  wrong  would  soon  pass  away,  and  every 
time  they  have  come  and  gone,  I have  deemed  my  duty 
to  write  to  you,  often  doubly  strong.  Every  thought  of 
you  (and  they  are  frequent  amid  my  many  cares,)  which 
every  day  crowd  upon  my  brain,  seems  to  bring  to  mind 
a hundred  tokens  of  your  ever  constant  care  and  kind- 
ness, a hundred  scenes,  in  which  I have  played  the  pleas- 
antest sports  of  life,  a hundred  sacred  images,  with  which 
I have  associated  during  so  many  happy  hours  of  my  life 
around  your  warm  fireside,  and  beneath  your  broad  and 
protecting  roof.  And  when  I sit  down  to  write  you  a let- 
ter, it  seems  as  though  I am  at  home,  and  all  the  famil- 
iar habits  and  customs  of  our  past  domestic  life  are  pass- 
ing before  me,  like  a train  of  breathing  household  idols. 
I feel  as  though  I am  really  conversing  with  you,  face  to 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


104 

face,  in  the  olcl  cheerful  kitchen,  as  I was  wont  to  do,  in 
days  gone  by.  So,  knowing  as  you  do,  how  well  I used 
to  like  to  sit  down  by  a warm  fire  in  that  good  old  room, 
and  talk  with  you  concerning  the  current  topics,  and  con- 
troverted questions  of  the  day,  you  can  realize  somewhat 
of  the  substantial  pleasure  I enjoy,  when  for  a little  time 
I lay  aside  the  duties  of  camp,  banish  from  my  sight  the 
steel  armor  and  the  bloody  visage  of  fraternal  war,  and 
write  you  a few  of  the  thoughts  which  spring  up  in  my 
mind.  It  is  Saturday  night  again,  and  darkness  is  fast 
falling  upon  us.  The  bustle  and  hum  have  not  ceased  in 
the  camp.  More  than  a hundred  persons  are  frolicking 
up  and  down  the  cool  shaded  streets.  More  than  a hun- 
dred merry  voices  sing  out  upon  the  vesper  air,  each  a 
part  of  the  grand  chorus  of  camp  music  in  the  army. — 
All  are  contented,  as  they  never  were  before.  All  are 
light-hearted  as  they  never  were  before.  A common  hap- 
piness seems  to  pervade  all  hearts,  and  a divine  light 
seems  to  shed  its  effulgence  upon  their  common  pathway. 
Heaven  grant  that  they  may  ever  feel  so  contented,  so 
cheerful,  so  proud,  so  strong, and  so  happy  ! Last  Tues- 
day our  regiment  returned  from  a short  raid,  the  purpose 
of  which  was,  as  the  Colonel  called  it,  a measure  to  carry 
Jefferson  Davis’  Conscript  Act  into  effect.  I suppose  you 
are  well  aware  of  the  effort  on  the  part  of  the  Confederate 
President,  to  impress  all  men,  able  to  bear  arms,  into  the 
ranks  of  his  shattered  army.  We  left  camp  on  Friday 
morning  about  4 o’clock,  and  marched  to  White  Plains, 
a distance  of  about  ten  miles— a village,  which,  since  our 
army  left  it  in  the  rear,  has  been  one  of  the  central  ren- 
dezvous of  guerrillas,  from  which  they  have  constantly 
prayed  upon  our  outposts,  and  the  weak  parts  of  our  line. 
We  made  our  way  very  cautiously  to  the  town,  hoping 
to  catch  some  of  those  fiends.  But  in  this  we  were  dis- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


105 

appointed,  by  their  having  apprehended  our  approach, 

1 and  having  made  safe  their  hasty  retreat.  Nevertheless, 
the  village  was  thrown  into  great  consternation  and  con- 
fusion, as  we  marched  down  into  it,  and  stacked  arms  in 
its  most  public  place.  Notes  were  immediately  sent  to 
the  leading  families  in  town  that  a certain  number  of 
Union  officers’  would  he  there  for  dinner  and  supper. — 
Notwithstanding  the 'intense  enmity  that  they  universally 
cherished  toward  . us,  we  were  very  cordially  received,  and 
bountifully  served  with  the  very  best  they  had  in  their 
possession.  During  the  day  we  had  a good  opportunity 
to  converse  with  the  citizens,  and  learn  the  general  feel- 
ing; with  regard  to  the  war,  and  the  issues  involved. — 
What  we  learned  in  that  little  village,  has  been  confirmed 
by  every  experience  we  have  had  in  our  wanderings  through 
Virginia.  There  were  hut  very  few  men  indeed  in  town, 
hut  the  tew  all  express  the  common  sentiment,  that  they 
wished  the  war  was  at  an  end,  and  that  they  were  willing 
to  come  under  the  old  stars  and  stripes,  as  loyal  citizens, 
and  to  lift  their  right  arms,  in  defence  of  the  Union  and 
the  Government  which  our  fathers  gave  us.  But  a differ- 
ent feeling  exists  among  the  women.  They  are  univer- 
sally in  sympathy  with  the  rebellion,  and  cherish  the  most 
hitter  feelings  toward  our  cause — its  helpers,  and  its  fol- 
lowers. Indeed  they  are  perfect  fanatics  in  their  devotion 
to  their  unholy  cause,  and  I believe  that  their  zeal,  and 
their  words,  are  the  greatest  stimulus  a rebel  soldier  has. 
They  will  tell  us  that  they  urge  their  brothers  and  their 
sons  to  fight  till  the  last  Yankee  bites  the  dust — until 
their  flag  shall  wave  triumphantly  over  the  ruins  of  the 
Union.  Their  zeal,  so  mad,  knows  no  limitation,  and 
their  last  dollar  is  ready  for  the  cause.  Of  course,  I do 
not  fear  that  they  will  ever  receive  any  return  for  their 
devotion,  unless  it  be  the  harvest  of  retribution  which 
14 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


106 

this  war  is  fast  maturing  for  them.  But,  we  can  hut  ad- 
mire the  single  heartedness,  the  sleepless  anxiety,  the  un- 
tiring devotedness,  the  constant  hopefulness,  which  to-day, 
are  the  active  forces  in  the  lives  of  the  women  of  the 
South.  Surely  the  spirit,  which  they  have  exercised 
throughout  this  struggle,  contrasts  greatly  with  that 
which  our  own  women  of  the  North  have  spread  abroad 
over  the  country  and  the  army.  I believe  that  many 
sons  of  the  North  are  home  to-day,  living  ingloriously, 
under  the  heavy  clouds  which  overhang  the  nation,  who 
would  have  come  forth  long  ago  into  the  tented  field, 
had  they  not  been  discouraged  and  dissuaded  hy  their 
mothers  and  their  sisters.  This  is  not  true  in  the  South. 
It  is  strange  to  notice  that,  while  they  regard  us  as  dead- 
ly enemies,  and  attribute  to  us  all  the  horrid  proportions 
of  the  invader,  crusader  and  destroyer,  they  have  not 
smothered  any  of  the  feelings  of  kindness,  of  mercy,  of 
justice,  and  of  charity,  which  the  hreath  of  Deity  first 
awakened  in  each  and  every  heart,  to  be  the  common, 
immortal  gravitation  of  the  human  race.  The  fires  of 
human  sympathy  still  brightly  burn  upon  the  altar  of 
their  hearts,  and  while  they  would  hurl  a doom  upon  us 
as  soldiers,  they  invoke  a blessing  upon  us  as  men,  and 
fellow-creatures.  While  we  were  at  White  Plains,  I 
suffered  very  severely  with  the  ear-ache.  Finally,  I went 
to  one  of  the  houses,  and — (I  guess  you  will  excuse  me 
for  sending  such  a looking  letter  ; you  will  see  with  what 
convenience  we  soldiers  write.  I was  writing  out  doors, 
and  a sudden,  fitful  gust  of  wind  blew  away  my  paper, 
and  tipped  over  the  ink  bottle).  I believe  I was  speaking 
about  my  ear-ache.  I told  the  inmates  how  I was  afflict- 
ed, and  they  immediately  set  themselves  to  work,  in  get- 
ting up  expedients  for  my  relief.  They  seemed  deeply 
concerned.  I could  not  have  been  cared  for  more  at  home. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


107 

Yet  these  people  were  the  most  inveterate  secessionists, 
and  hesitated  not  to  say  that  they  hoped  that  every 
northern  Soldier,  who  has  invaded  their  sacred  soil,  would 
forfeit  his  life  in  what  they  called  ,£The  Unholy  Crusade.” 
Notwithstanding  their  treason,  and  their  ambition  for 
ruin  and  blood,  they  are  hospitable,  generous  and  kind. 
At  night  we  started  out  and  marched  till  morning,  search- 
ing every  house  on  the  road.  We  were  in  hopes  of  find- 
ing some  of  Moseby’s  men.  We  arrived  at  Middleburg 
just  at  daylight.  The  town  is  about  as  large  as  Newport. 
We  surrounded  it  in  the  first  place,  and  searched  every 
house.  We  took  the  people  wholly  by  surprise,  and  they 
evinced  much  indignation  at  our  independent,  but  per- 
fectly courteous  career  through  the  village.  By  the  time 
that  we  had  made  the  circuit  around  to  our  camp  again, 
we  had  taken  five  of  Moseby’s  men,  twelve  citizens  who 
would  come  under  Davis’  call,  and  about  80  horses.  One 
day  the  Colonel  sent  me  with  fifteen  men,  to  scour  the 
country  out  on  the  right  flank.  I understood  his  orders, 
and  by  noon,  when  I returned  to  the  main  body  of  the 
regiment  in  the  road,  we  all  had  good  horses  to  ride,  and 
four  prisoners  that  we  had  taken.  The  ' Colonel  seemed 
quite  well  pleased.  Though  we  did  not  succeed  in  cap- 
turing Moseby  and  his  command,  yet  we  felt  assured 
that  we  gave  him  a pretty  good  scare,  and  a right  smart 
chase.  At  least  we  got  them  in  pretty  close  quarters, 
and  their  skulking  here  and  there  through  the  woods 
showed  pretty  well  that  they  felt  in  no  way  secure. 

While  we  were  moving  down  the  road  from  Middleburg 
to  Salem,  the  Colonel  saw  four  horsemen  coming  up  from 
another  direction,  and  making  their  way  to  a large  stone 
house  off  in  the  field  ahead  of  us.  The  Colonel  told  me 
to  take  some  men,  and  going  up  through  the  ravine,  to 
deploy  around  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  then  close  in 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


108 

on  it  from  all  directions.  But  by  the  time  I arrived  there 
the  horsemen  had  gone  off  on  a gallop  down  another  road, 
and  I only  arrived  in  time  to  see  them  fleeing  over  the 
hills  beyond.  There  were  none  hut  women  at  the  house, 
who  manifestly  were  greatly  frightened  and  embarassed. 
I asked  them  who  those  horsemen  were  who  had  been 
there.  They  said  no  one  had  been  there.  This  I knew 
to  be  false.  I asked  them  where  they  had  gone,  and  they 
convicted  themselves  by  trying  to  tell'  me  where  they  had 
gone.  There  were  several  negro  women  around,  all  very 
intelligent,  and  as  true  to  our  cause  as  they  are  free  by 
the  Law  of  God.  One  of  them  followed  us  to  the  milk- 
house,  and  while  giving  us  some  milk, assured  us  that  the 
horsemen  of  whom  I had  spoken, were  Mosby  himself  and 
some  of  his  men  ; that  he  had  been  around  there  several 
days,  and  that  she  hoped  we  might  capture  him  and  bring 
upon  his  unholy  head  the  doom  which  he  had  executed 
upon  many  of  our  poor  soldiers.  The  weather  at  present 
is  excessively  hot,  yet  we  have  become  so  accustomed  to 
it,  that  we  get  along  very  well.  The  general  health  of 
the  Regiment,  is, very  good.  Only  one  death  has  occurred 
from  sickness  since  we  broke  camp  at  White  Oak  Church. 
It  is  uncertain  how  long  we  shall  remain  here,  probably 
not  a great  while.  Day  before  yesterday  we  were  ordered 
to  be  in  readiness  to  move  at  any  time.  Rumor  then  said 
that  we  were  going  to  Charleston.  I almost  hope  it  is 
true.  Who  can  ask  for  a prouder  hour,  than  that  which 
shall  behold  the  fall  of  that  great  citadel  of  Rebellion, the 
Babylon  of  the  Western  world.  As  that  city  rocked 
this  rebellion  in  its  infancy,  so  may  its  ruins  be  made  to 
cover  the  carcass  of  the  monster  it  nurtured  into  life. — 
There  may  not  be  much  probability  in  this  report, so  you 
need  not  be  surprised  either  way.  We  are  in  a very  pleas- 
ant place  now,  but  still  we  get  uneasy  in  the  army  if  we 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


109 

do  not  move  around,  and  are  not  in  tire  midst  of  excite- 
ment. We  were  paid  off  a few  days  ago,  for  May  and 
June.  Enclosed  I send  you  a draft  for  $130,  which  you 
can  use  as  you  deem  proper.  I should  have  sent  more 
hut  I bought  a watch,  (which  I very  much  needed)  and 
have  not  been  paid  all  due  me*  from  other  officers.  We 
shall  probably  be  paid  again  in  the  early  part  of  next 
month.  It  costs  considerable  for  us  to  live,  as  provisions 
and  clothes  cost  pretty  well,  but  I have  tried  to  use  as 
much  economy  as  possible,  in  order  to  save  as  much  as  I 
can  for  my  future  wants  and  exigiences.  I think  I save 
as  much  as  any  one  in  the  Kegitnent,  and  hence  I feel 
pretty  well  satisfied.  I have  never  lost  sight  for  a mo- 
ment, of  the  course  I had  laid  out  for  my  future  life,  nor 
have  I ever  felt  like  throwing  up  any  of  my  plans,  and 
embarking  upon  a new  career  in  the  world.  I have  be- 
come convinced,  that  we  can  never  make  much  of  a mark 
upon  a century,  without  we  work  diligently  and  constant- 
ly, and  I am  in  hopes  that  I,  at  least,  can  fulfill  my  mis- 
sion, if  I employ  all  the  golden  hours  and  opportunities 
that  pass  by  the  door  of  every  man’s  home.  I wish  you 
would  have  Charley  send  me  a few  stamps.  It  is  im- 
possible to  get  them  here.  I have  not  yet  received  from 
Eleazer,  an  answer  to  my  last  letter.  I hope  he  has  not 
forgotten  me  entirely.  Let  me  urge  you  and  Charley 
too,  to  write  as  often  as  you  can  ; also  Caroline  and 
Nancy  and  the  children.  I wish  some  of  the  good  neigh- 
hors  would  write  to  me  occasionally.  Nothing  would  give 
me  more  pleasure,  than  to  hear  from  them  directly  and  to 
answer  them.  I know  I agree  with  a great  many  of  them 
upon  the  great  issues  of  the  day,  and  if  I am  worthy  of 
their  consideration,  I hope  our  friendly  intercourse  and 
relations  may  not  be  broken  or  lost.  Hoping  to  hear 
from  you  soon  again  I will  close. 


Clarke. 


110 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


/ 


Camp  of  the  121st,  New  Baltimore,  Va.,  ) 
August  22d,  1863.  j 

My  Dear  Brother  Daniel  : 

It  is  the  eventide  of  a warm,  beautiful  summer  after- 
noon, and  as  the  quiet  shades  have  been  gathering  around 
us,  and  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  departing  day  have 
been  dying  away  upon  the  vesper  air,  I have  been  sitting 
alone,  in  my  little  tented  home, anxiously  wondering  what 
you  may  be  doing  ; by  what  circumstances  and  associa- 
tions you  may  be  surrounded  ; what  prospects  are  before 
you  ; how  the  selfish  world  and  its  people  deal  with  you  ; 
what  emotions  are  swelling  up  in  your  warm  and  gener- 
ous breast,  (happy,  I hope)  ; and  above  all,  I have  l sen 
wishing,  longing,  that  I might  get  a letter  from  you, tell- 
ing me  you  are  well  and  in  good  spirits.  And  as  I have 
been  thinking  this,  the  fear  which  has  often  lurked  in  my 
mind  of  late,  that  you  did  not  receive  my  last  letter,  has 
swollen  itself  almost  into  a conviction,  and  as  I have  a 
short  time  at  my  disposal,  it  is  with  a heart  full  of  rap- 
ture and  alacrity,  that  I sit  down  to  write  to  you  again. 
0 ! Daniel,  you  will  never  realize  what  real  pleasure, what 
substantial  joy,  what  unbounded  satisfaction  and  pride, 
the  wliite-winged  spirit  of  your  letter  brought  to  my  sol- 
dier home.  It  was  written  when  the  snow  lay  upon  the 
ground  like  a heavy  mantle,  and  the  dry,  dead  leaves  lay 
beneath  as  the  faded  robe  which  time  throws  off  here  and 
and  there,  and  the  chilly  winds  were  sighing  through 
the  pines,  as  though  they  were  breathing  the  dirge  for 
some  departed  friend.  But  in  the  midst  of  this  somber 
season,  this  annual  gloom,  your  letter,  so  kind,  so  noble, 
well  composed,  came  to  me  like  a swift- winged  messenger 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


Ill 

from  a summer  land,  whispering  in  tones  of  sweetest  mu- 
sic, breathing  the  incense  of  choicest  roses,  and  weaving 
summer  sunshine  all  around.  Many  a time  have  I read 
it,  and  the  more  I read  it,  the  better  it  sounds.  Don’t 
think  me  extravagant.  I know  I only  appreciate  its  real 
merit.  It  is  the  outpouring  of  a warm  and  generous  soul, 
the  music  from  heart  chords  swept  by  divine  fingers,  and 
partakes  not  of  the  studied  art,  of  the  cold  selfishness,  of 
the  dead  formality,  which  appear  so  extensively  in  the 
intercourse,  and  relation  of  modern  society.  I hate  to 
wait  so  long.  I anxiously  hope  and  wish  to  hear  from  you 
often,  and  yet,  I think  I can  afford  to  wait  half  a year, for 
such  worthy  letters.  It  is  worth  a thousand  of  the  chaf- 
fy, soulless  letters,  which  generally  pass  between  friends 
and  relatives.  Daniel,  I tell  you,  a great  many  changes 
have  taken  place  since  I wrote  to  you  before.  The  cur- 
rent of  events  has  swept  on  like  a river  in  a storm.  The 
conflict  in  which  we  are  engaged,  has  raged  with  awful 
fury,  assumed  many  different  aspects,  and,  I think,  has 
passed  the  crisis  hour  of  its  progress  and  its  destiny.  Bat- 
tles have  been  fought  as  never  before.  The  army  of  trea- 
son turned  its  columns  Northward,  and  the  dark  tide  of 
invasion  has  swept  over  loyal  soil.  But  it  was  like  the 
last  surge  of  a sinking  sea  ; the  gasping  breath  of  a hope- 
less and  dying  cause.  The  rebel  army  was  diiven  to  des- 
peration. They  saw  the  shackles  of  the  Mississippi  break- 
ing away.  They  saw  the  army  of  the  Cumberland  about 
to  move  on  to  Chattanooga.  They  saw  the  huge  coils  of 
the  Government’s  power,  slowly  but  surely  closing  around 
them,  and  their  last  and  only  chance,  was  to  bound  from 
these  tightening  environs,  and  seek,  as  a forlorn  hope,  to 
establish  a new  foot-hold,  upon  soil  not  yet  desecrated. 

And  though  they  did  make  the  frightful  plunge,  though 
they  did  sweep  the  line,  with  which  we  opposed  them, 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


112 

though  they  did  unfurl  the  base  emblem  of  their  nation- 
ality to  the  free  winds  of  the  north,  yet  that  emblem  soon 
trailed  in  the  dust,  the  columns  of  that  army  tottered 
and  scattered  at  Gettysburg,  as  if  swept  by  the  dark  wings 
of  an  avenging  angel,  and  crest-fallen,  powerless,  and  de- 
moralized, it  fell  back,  covered  with  more  shame  and  hu- 
miliation than  did  the  army  of  Napolean  from  Moscow 
in  ashes,  and  the  ice-bound  regions  of  the  north.  I wish 
I could  describe  to  you  our  pilgrimage,  and  all  its  attend- 
ing scenes,  from  the  Rappahannock,  up  to  Edward’s 
Ferry,  thence  to  Gettysburg,  and  back  almost  to  the 
Rappahannock  again.  But  it  would  till  a large  book — 
that  is,  a connected,  detailed  account  of  our  experience. 
Of  course  you  have  heard  that  we  were  in  the  battles  of 
Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville,  on  the  2d,  3d  and 
4th  of  May.  We  are  in  Sedgwick’s  corps  you  will  re- 
member, and  his  command  suffered  most  heavily  of  all. 
We  were  under  pretty  sharp  artillery  fire  for  four  or  five 
days,  but  did  not  suffer  much  from  that.  We  were  part 
of  the  line  that  moved  upon  the  hights,  and  carried  them 
on  the  morning  of  the  third.  You  cannot  imagine  how 
good  the  old  Stars  and  Stripes  appeared  ; what  a current 
of  enthusiasm,  and  of  national  pride,  thrilled  the  breast 
of  every  soldier,  when  we  saw  them  wave  triumphantly 
over  the  hights,  which  had  frowned  the  great  army  down, 
for  five  long  weary  months.  But  the  day’s  work  was  not 
yet  half  done.  The  rebel  forces  flew  so  hurriedly  and  in 
such  confusion,  that  all  were  convinced  that  they  were 
on  the  full  retreat.  But  in  this  we  were  mistaken.  They 
only  fell  back  to  their  second  line  of  defence,  and  when 
we  followed  on  in  quick  pursuit,  a doom  hung  over  us, 
which  sealed  the  fate  of  many  a poor  soldier  boy,  and  cast 
a shadow  over  many  a home.  Our  forces  were  repulsed 
with  a terrible  loss,  our  regiment  losing  273  men,  killed, 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


113 

wounded  and  missing.  Capt.  Thomas  Arnold  was  kill- 
ed ; also  Fred.  Ford,  son  of  Albert  Ford.  The  next 
day  the  whole  of  the*  rebel  army  turned  upon  our  corps, 
and  advanced  upon  its,  from  three  sides,  hut  we  managed 
to  repel  them  till  dark,  when  we  beat  a hasty  retreat  to 
the  river  and  began  to  cross.  The  rebels  hung  close 
upon  our  heels,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  deep  dark- 
ness, destruction  would  certainly  have  been  our  lot.  Ours 
was  the  last  regiment  to  cross  the  river,  as  we  had  cover- 
ed the  retreat.  The  daylight  was  just  about  to  break 
when  we  got  over  and  took  up  the  pontoons.  You  can 
imagine  our  awful  anxiety,  as  the  morning  hours  began 
to  approach.  That  was  the  most  horrid  night  I ever  ex- 
perienced. I would  give  you  more  particulars  about  this, 
one  of  the  very  greatest  battles  of  history,  but  I presume 
you  have  read  all  about  it,  long  ere  this.  Our  campaign 
into  Maryland  and  Pennsylvania  was  one  of  the  most  ex- 
tensive and  massive  anywhere  to  be  found  in  the  annals 
of  war.  The  army  made  some  awful  marches,  especially 
the  6th,  Sedgwick’s  corps,  as  it  constituted  the  ex- 
treme right  of  the  army.  We  often  marched  all 
day  and  night,  during  the  hottest,  and  most  dusty  season 
of  the  year.  And  yet  it  was  done  with  the  most  willing 
spirits  by  the  patriot  soldiers.  The  battle  of  Gettys- 
burg began  on  the  first  day  of  J uly.  At  night  of  that 
day  our  corps  was  at  Manchester,  thirty-five  miles  from 
the  scene  of  action.  At  eight  o’clock  that  very  night 
we  took  up  the  line  of  march.  We  traveled  all  night, 
without  food  or  rest,  and  kept  on  till  2 o’clock  the  next 
day,  when  we  stopped  an  hour  and  a half,  to  get  coffee., 
By  4 o’clock  we  were  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  were  only 
just  in  time  to  save  the  most  important  position  in  our  line, 
and  to  decide  the  issue  of  that  bloody  battle.  I think  you 
will  have  to  look  in  vain,  for  records  of  heavier  marching?. 

7 O 


LETTERS  AND  AVRITINGS  OF 


114 

We  followed  up  the  retreating  army,  till  it  crossed  the 
Potomac,  and  fled  down  the  Shenandoah  Yalley.  It  seems 
as  though  Ave  ought  to  have  destroyed  the  enemy,  before 
he  had  crossed  the  river,  but  it  is  hard  to  fix  the  blame 
for  not  doing  it  upon  any  one.  Had  our  Generals  known 
what  they  afterwards  learned,  they  certainly  would  have 
done  very  differently.  But  from  a year’s  experience  in 
the  army,  I have  learned  that  we  are  in  duty  bound  to 
exercise  a good  deal  of  charity  towards  our  Generals. — 
For  it  is  very  much  easier  to  handle  a great  army  upon 
an  imaginary  board,  then  upon  the  field  of  battle,  especial- 
ly in  the  enemy’s  country,  and  under  the  most  untoward 
circumstances.  At  present,  this  army  is  lying  in  camp, 
and  probably  will  make  no  material  ■change  in  its  position 
until  filled  up  with  conscripts.  And  then  I hardly  look 
for  a forward  move  by  the  Potomac  army.  The  future 
policy  of  the  war  seems  to  be  for  Gen.  Meade  to  keep 
Lee  in  check,  and  to  defend  the  National  Capital,  while 
the  armies  in  the  south  and  south-west  overthrow  the 
strongholds  in  their  Avay,  subjugate  the  country,  and  move 
northward  by  gradual  approaches  toward  Richmond,  the 
center  and  base  of  the  rotten  Confederacy.  This  seems 
like  a most  excellent  course  to  drive  on  the  war  horse, 
until  he  shall  trample  the  last  vestige  of  rebellion  into 
the  ground.  Surely  the  cause  of  the  Union  looks  very 
fair  and  promising,  since  the  victories  of  Vicksburg,  Port. 
Hudson,  Gettysburg,  and  Helena  have  perched  upon  its 
banner.  The  tables  have  been  turned  ; the  dark  night  of 
disaster  and  gloom  is  passing  away  ; the  bow  of  promise 
bends  over  the  land,  and  the  time  is  not  very  far  distant 
when  we  shall  have  a united  people  again,  strong  in  unity, 
happy  in  fraternity,  prosperous  in  peace.  Now,  while  Ave 
are  in  camp,  our  duties  are  quite  light, — only  drilling  two 
or  three  hours  a day  and  having  dress  parade  and  inspec- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


115 

tion,  two  or  three  times  a week.  We  live  in  little  shelter 
tents, — that  is  homes  made  of  four  or  five  pieces  of  cotton 
cloth,  about  the  size  of  a bed  sheet.  By  building  up  lit- 
tle frames  with  posts,  hoards,  or  rails,  and  using  these 
tents  for  roofs,  we  have  quite  comfortable  quarters.  When 
the  army  gets  into  winter,  or  permanent  quarters,  all  the 
officers  have  large  tents  twelve  by  fifteen  feet  across. — 
These  are-  quite  convenient.  Each  officer  is  entitled  to 
one  enlisted  man,  to  cook  for  him,  and  who  is  excused 
from  all  other  duty.  On  the  march,  we  have  pack  mules 
to  carry  our  blankets,  tents,  and  all  that  we  need  to  have 
with  us  on  a campaign.  All  the  necessaries  of  life,  are 
furnished  us  by  the  commissary  department,  and  at  very 
reasonable  prices.  Sutlers  bring  in  many  of  the  luxuries, 
so  we  are  enabled  to  live  very  well  indeed.  Col.  Upton 
has  been  commanding  the  brigade  for  some  time,  but  Gen. 
Bartlett,  coming  back  again  for  a few  days,  places  him 
again  at  the  head  of  the  regiment.  He  has  the  finest 
prospects  as  a military  man,  and  unless  his  life  is  beset 
by  more  than  the  ordinary  misfortunes  of  man,  he  will 
yet  occupy  an  exalted  position,  as  he  does  now  in  fact,  in 
the  esteem  of  all  who  know  him. 

I think  there  are  very  few  now  in  the  regiment  with 
whom  you  are  acquainted.  I dont  know  of  any  but 
Ward  Rice  and  Luzerne  Todd,  or  “Sam/'  as  we  used 
to  call  him  in  school  boy  days.  They  are  both  well,  and 
make  good  soldiers.  Cameron,  once  with  us  as  Lieut., 
has  gone  the  way  prepared  for  the  living.  Wilbur  Lam- 
berson  is  also  dead.  * * * * 

I am  now  1st  Lieut.  ; was  transferred  to  Co.  F on  the 
14th  day  of  May,  which  company  I have  had  the  honor 
of  commanding  ever  since.  Without  wishing  to  brag,  I 
will  tell  you  what  may  seem  rather  egotistical  : that  I 
have  as  good  looking  a company,  and  under  as  good  disci- 


116 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


pline,  and  drill,  as  any  in  the  regiment.  My  name  has 
been  forwarded  by  the  Colonel  to  Gov.  Seymour,  for  a 
commission  as  Captain.  I shall  not  get  it  until  the  regi- 
ment is  filled  up,  which  will  not  he  long  hence,  as  there 
can  he  no  promotions  till  then.  My  pay  is  now  §115 
per  month,  and  ten  dollars  extra,  for  commanding 
the  company.  So  I have  some  chance  to  lay  up  some- 
thing as  a base  for  my  future  wants,  and  future  operations. 
You  asked  me  my  plans.  I still  adhere  to  my  purpose, 
to  get  a good  education  and  then  study  law.  I shall  try 
to  aim  high  in  life,  hut  I shall  not  he  awlully  disappoint- 
ed if  I do  not  hit  the  mark.  Nevertheless,  I am  hopeful 
of  making  something  of  a mark  upon  the  period  in  which 
I live.  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  I like  as  well 
as  public  speaking.  There  is  no  profeesion,  in  which  I 
would  like  to  gain  a reputation,  as  well  as  in  law.  I have 
had  a little  practice  in  the  former,  I know  not  how  I 
shall  get  along  in  the  latter.  Nothing  would  give  me 
more  pleasure  than  to  go  to  California,  if  you  and  George 
stay  there.  I feel  assured  that  some  western  country  can 
offer  better  inducements  to  a young  man  than  the  east. 

I hear  from  home  quite  often,  and  they  always  speak 
of  you  and  George,  and  you  cannot  think  what  an  anx- 
iety they  have  for  you.  I wish  you  would  come  home 
and  see  our  family.  It  would  do  father  and  mother 
so  much  good,  now,  as  they  are  gliding  so  swiftly  down 
the  decline  of  life.  May  God  bless  those  good  parents, 
and  all  my  brothers  and  sisters  ! 

Now,  Daniel,  I must  close,  but  0 ! with  what  reluc- 
tance! It  seems  as  though  I had  been  talking  with  you. 
May  the  grace  of  heaven  ever  rest  upon  you,  and  wherever 
on  this  broad  earth  you  may  roam,  may  your  happiness 
he  as  deep  as  the  sea,  and  your  heart  as  light  as  the  foam. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE.  117 

Remember  me  kindly  to  all  friends  at  home,  and  now 
farewell. 

From  Clarke. 

P.  S. — Give  my  sincere  love  to  George.  Ask  him  to 
write  often.  I have  not  heard  from  him  in  a long  while. 
I will  write  to  him  in  a few  days.  I fear  you  cannot  get 
much  sense  from  this  letter,  for  as  I am  officer  of  the  day, 
I have  been  continually  interrupted,  and  obliged  to  write 
in  haste.  C. 


118 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OFJ 


SISS  EAST  EETTER. 

Camp  of  the  121st,  N.  Y.  Y.,  New  I 
Baltimore,  Ya.,  Aug.  31,  1863.  j 

My  Dea.r  Sister  : 

I have  been  waiting  a long  time,  in  the  hope  of  hearing 
from  you.  It  seems  as  though  you  ought  to  write  to  me, 
at  least  once  a week.  I feel  assured  that  you  take  inter- 
est enough  in  my  welfare  to  prompt  you  to  write  thus 
often,  and  whenever  an  unlucky  week  passes  without 
bringing  me  a letter,  I never  feel  like  attributing  it  to 
any  needless  neglect  on  your  part,  but  am  made  to  depre- 
cate the  unfortunate  circumstances,  that,  as  by  the  decree 
of  Fate,  turned  your  noble  efforts  elsewhere.  It  would 
be  ingratitude,- indeed,  and  skepticism,  the  most  unright- 
eous, for  me  to  cherish  any  feelings  of  distrust,  as  to  the 
constancy,  with  which  your  thoughts  have  followed  me 
in  my  soldier’s  career,  and  as  to  the  anxiety  with  which 
you  watched  for  my  fortunes,  and  my  destiny.  I feel  no 
better  assured  of  anything  in  the  world,  than  that  your 
sympathy  and  friendship  for  me  are  as  deep  as  a noble 
sister’s  heart,  and  that  your  solicitation  for  my  safety  and 
success,  is  as  steadfast,  as  restless  as  the  current  of  our 
lives.  Your  letters  are  so  full  of  love,  of  friendship,  of 
solicitude,  of  charity,  and  of  sympathy,  life’s  eleptricity, 
and  mutual  force,  that  they  seem  to  impart  to  me,  for 
the  time  at  least,  a new,  a better,  and  a stronger  life,  and 
more  of  the  graces  and  the  beauties  of  the  human  soul. 
And  thus  it  gives  me  so  much  satisfaction,  so  much  joy, 
to  receive  a letter  from  you,  and  so  much  disappointment 
and  sorrow,  to  see  the  mail  come  night  after  night,  and 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


119 

as  it  comes,  it  is  distributed  among  the  eager  throng, with 
none,  none  for  me  ! 0 ! how  great  is  the  fall  from  the 

halo-wreathed  altitude  of  Hope,  down  to  the  dim, shadowy 
sink  of  disappointment.  At  morning  man’s  hopes,  and 
anticipations,  and  aspirations,  begin  to  twine  around, 
and  climb  up  the  golden  pillar  of  the  hours,  as  if  to  bloom 
eternally  upon  the  noon-day,  hut  at  night,  the  chilly 
dampness  comes,  and  they  droop  downward  to  the  base, 
like  frost-bitten  vines  in  Autumn.  In  the  morning, hope 
comes  laughing  to  our  doors,  to  bid  us  come  forth  into 
the  day,  but  at  night  he  goes  away  weeping,  and  like  a 
gray  haired  man,  surely  tottering  to  the  grave.  Don’t 
think  me  complaining  of  the  circumstances,  and  accidents, 
and  chances,  and  destiny,  in  which  a benign  Providence 
has  enshrouded  the  lot  and  the  life  of  man.  0,  no  ! I 
can  not  complain,  until  I think  myself  able  to  conceive, 
or  institute  a better  economy,  and  how  wicked  and  blas- 
phemous it  would  be,  for  mortal  man  to  think  to  improve 
upon  the  universal  idea  and  system  of  the  Infinite.  I 
know  I am  always  liable  to  paint  the  picture  of  life  in 
rather  too  shady  colors,  and  you  will  ever  make  allowances 
in  me,  for  any  affected  melancholy. 

As  you  will  see  by  the  heading  of  this  letter,  we  are 
still  at  New  Baltimore,  and  on  the  same  duty — the  duty 
of  protecting  the  extreme  right  wing  of  the  army  of  the 
Potomac.  The  location  of  New  Baltimore,  as  you  will 
see  by  reference  to  the  map,*  is  in  the  valley,  but  a few 
miles  from  the  base  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  but  a few 
miles  from  Ashby’s  and  Snicker’s  Gaps — nature’s  great 
gateways  through  the  mountains  into  the  blooming  para- 
dise of  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  The  enemy  holds  these 
gaps  ; also  all  the  valley  beyond.  So  you  will  see,  the 
army’s  safety  depends,  a very  great  deal,  upon  our  brig- 
ade, as  our  moving,  in  case  of  an  attack,  would  enable  it 


120 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


to  get  into  position  before  the  enemy  could  possibly  get 
to  us,  in  very  strong  force.  Before  the  war  broke  out 
this  was  the  most  wealthy,  and  prosperous  section  of 
Virginia.  But  since  that  evil  day,  it  has  been  swept  and 
cursed,  as  if  it  had  been  the  chosen  victim  of  divine  retri- 
bution. It  has  been  the  great  highway,  on  which  both 
armies  have  moved  backwards  and  forwards  ; the  great 
common,  on  which  the  two  mighty  forces  have  met,  and 
by  hardest  fighting,  have  contended  for  the  success  of  their 
principles  and  purposes.  Of  course,  nothing  is  left  but 
a wreck  of  its  former  self.  It  is  like  a wilderness,  where 
once  an  Eden  bloomed  ; even  as  bad  as  an  Egyptian  des- 
olation, upon  the  sacred  banks  of  the  Euphrates.  Were 
it  not  for  the  presence  of  the  army  here,  it  would  be  as 
quiet  as  a New  England  Sabbath,  as  lonely  as  a deserted 
village,  in  the  Old  World.  Only  think  of  a country  swept 
of  its  fences,  the  fields  changed  to  desolate  wastes,  the 
well-sweeps  broken,  the  gardens  turned  into  commons, 
and  no  husbandmen  to  awaken  the  glad  echoes  of  the 
woods,  and  the  nymphs  themselves  hidden  under  the 
rocks.  No  cattle  are  pasturing  in  the  valleys.  No  sheep 
are  climbing  the  hill-sides.  No  horse’s  hoof  is  heard  upon 
the  highway.  Alas  ! this  is  haughty,  proud  Virginia,  in 
her  trial,  her  sorrow,  and  her  humility.  Oh  ! an  evil 
day  was  that  for  the  Old  Dominion,  when  she  hauled 
down  the  flag  of  our  fathers,  and  raised  her  unrighteous  arm 
against  the  Government  of  the  land.  Truly,  indeed,  did 
she  “sow  the  wind  to  reap  the  whirlwind.”  Last  Sunday, 
part  of  the  regiment  led  by  Lieut.  Col.  Olcott,  went  out 
on  another  raid,  not  so  extensive,  however,  as  the  former 
one,  and  hardly  so  successful,  so  far  as  it  concerns  horses 
and  guerrillas.  We  went  up,  and  passed  through  Thor- 
oughfare Gap,  a place  quite  historic  now,  and  I pre- 
sume you  have  often  read  of  it.  It  was  through  this  Gap, 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


121 

that  Gen.  Johnston  passed  when  lie  reinforced  the  rebels 
at  the  time  of  the  first  Bull  Run  battle,  and  thus  turned 
the  issue  of  that  memorable  fight  against  us.  This  Gap 
is  but  a few  miles  from  that  historic  battle  ground.  Had 
Gen.  Patterson  done  his  duty  and  headed  off  J ohnston 
at  that  Pass,  which  he  could  have  done  easily  enough,  as 
it  is  aD  American  Thermopylae,  we  would  have  been  suc- 
cessful, and  this  rebellion  would  ’have  been  suppressed 
long  before  this.  Our  purpose  in  this  raid,  was  to  see  if 
we  could  not  capture  any  of  the  guerrillas,  which  still  are 
hovering  around  us,  like  vultures  over  their  anticipated 
prey.  In  this  we  were  not  successful,  but  we  had  a glor- 
ious time,  I can  assure  you.  We  stopped  at  many  of  the 
houses,  many  of  the  once  luxuriant  homes  of  the  aristoc- 
racy and  wealthy,  and  it  was  amusing  to  hear  the  women 
spit  forth  their  bitterness  upon  us  crusaders,  as  they  were 
pleased  to  call  us.  But  by  being  moderate  we  could  al- 
ways cool  them  down  before  we  left,  and  at  last  make  them 
acknowledge  that  they  wished  the  war  would  close. 

The  health  of  the  regiment  is  very  good  indeed,  and 
finer  spirits  never  .prevailed.  We  drill  some  every  day, 
and  time  passes  very  pleasantly,  as  well  as  rapidly.  I 
really  wish  1 could  go  home  while  Caroline  is  there.  I 
hardly  dare  hope  to  get  away  this  fall.  But  I assure  you 
I will  not  let  an  opportunity  pass.  You  need  not  fear 
that  I will  go  home  and  not  see  you.  I hope  to  see  the 
last  battle  of  this  war  fought  this  autumn,  so  that  an 
honorable  and  permanent  peace  may  be  fixed  upon  before 
spring.  The  signs  are  bright.  I must  close,  Nancy. 
Write  as  often  as  you  can  and  accept  this  with  much  af- 
fection From 

Clarke. 

The  above  was  the  last  word  received  from  Clarke  by  letter.  It 
seems  to  have  been  written  in  a sad,  lonely  mood,  as  though  he  almost 

16 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


122 

felt  he  was  bidding  us  good-bye  forever.  Oh,  little  did  he  think,  when 
he  said  “he  would  like  to  come  home  while  our  dear  sister  who  had  been 
absent  so  long,  was  there,”  that  in  a few  short  weeks,  he  would  indeed 
go  home  forever.  Yes,  to  his  eternal  home. 

No  one  but  those  that  have  been  absent  from  home  many  months  know 
how  sad  it  makes  anyone  feel  to  have  the  mails  come  day  after  day,  and 
nothing  from  home, no  news  from  the  dear  ones  that  are  gathered  around 
the  family  hearth.  No  wonder  that  he  felt  sad.  Ah,  you  that  have 
soldier  friends,  do  not  forget  to  write  to  them  often,  encourage  them  and 
give  them  your  deepest  love,  and  be  assured  that  it  will  be  seed  sown 
upon  good  soil. 

We  were  in  the  habit  of  writing  to  Clarke  once  and  twice  a week  but 
the  army  was  so  in  motion  that  sometimes  letters  would  not  reach  him. 
Hence  his  depression  of  spirits.  In  fact,  I think  we  never  received  a let- 
ter from  him  during  all  the  time  of  his  service,  written  in  such  a sad 
mood.  This  was  one  great  satisfaction  in  reading  Clarke’s  letters, that 
they  were  always  so  full  of  hope  and  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  coun- 
try. We  always  felt  ashamed  after  reading  his  letters,  for  indulging  in 
the  slightest  suspicion  of  the  failure  of  the  government  to  overthrow  the 
rebellion,  when  her  soldiers  seemed  so  determined  in  the  cause  for  which 
they  fought. 

The  preceding  was  the  last  of  Clarke’s  letters.  AVe  have  arranged 
them  in  the  order  of  their  receipt.  We  have  selected  a few  of  his  orations 
written  while  in  school  at  Fairfield.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  wehave 
not  collected  these  writings  for  the  benefit  of  anyone  except  ourselves. 
And  if  some  critic  in  looking  them  over  should  see  many  faults  both  in 
style  and  sentiment, let  him  understand  that  if  divested  of  this  originality 
characterizing  them  we  could  not  see  Clarke’s  image  in  everjr  page  and 
line  as  we  do  now.  AVe  want  to  think  of  Cla-rke  just  as  he  was.  We 
loved  him  better  for  all  his  faults.  He  was  our  hope,  our  pride, and  now 
that  he  is  dead  and  gone,  we  will  not  mutilate  his  memory  by  trying 
to  make  him  appear  different  from  himself — yes  ! 0 Clarke,  your  mem- 
ory shall  be  sacred.  We  will  prize  it  higher  than  our  lives,  better  than 
riches. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


123 


LIFE  FORCES. 

A true  life  tide  never  ebbs,  and  never  lingers  here  and 
there.  Its  sweep  is  eternity,  and  its  ramifications  stretch 
throughout  creation.  A single  pulsation  of  a great  heart 
can  ripple  an  age  with  the  curling  waves  of  sympathy, and 
by  a single  beat,  infuse  the  inspiration  of  a better  life 
through  the  economy  of  existence.  Man  can  live  an  eter- 
nity in  three-score  years  and  ten,  and  though  but  the  in- 
habitant of  a lonely  cot,  he  may  preside  over  the  destin- 
ies of  a generation  and  sit  a master  spirit  in  the  council 
chambers  of  the  world.  Dangers  vanish  before  the  true 
hero’s  glance,  like  the  dim  spectnes  of  a dream,  before  the 
lightning  flash  of  reality,  and  obstacles  crumble  under  the 
tread  of  a strong  man,  as  if  crushed  underneath  the  iron 
wheel  of  destiny.  Though  luck  and  chance  constitute 
the  philosophy  of  the  game  of  life,  yet  the  skillful  player 
can  get  the  trumps  at  every  dealing,  and  is  sure  to  win, 
for  he  can  “ play  it  alone,”  in  every  strife. 

Though  fate  presides  over  the  logic  of  events,  dealing 
out  lots  to  the  fortune  seekers  of  earth,  yet  there  are  men 
in  every  age,  Gods  indeed,  who  seem  to  stretch  out  their 
iron  fingers  and  snatch  those  very  fates  from  their  high 
places,  binding  them  as  slaves  to  their  iron  wills,  and 
making  them  willing  agents  in  their  schemes.  Time 
seems  to  be  the  world’s  Olympic  course  and  all  man- 
kind are  racers  for  an  appointed  goal, — competitors  for 
the  highest  prize  of  life.  Hark  ! the  world’s  clock  has 
struck  the  third  signal  of  the  hour.  Clouded  dust  curls 


124 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


in  spiral  columns  towards  the  heavens,  and  a heavy  tread 
resounds  upon  the  hollow. earth,  like  the  tramp  of  a swift- 
ly advancing  army.  The  cheer  of  triumph,  the  wail  of 
discouragement,  the  hoarse  curse  of  dispair,  the  heartless 
laugh  of  ridicule,  mingled  in  solemn  chorus,  float  upon 
the  reluctant  air.  Surely  the  common  race  has  begun. — 
A generation  is  rushing  with  frightful  speed  down  the  life 
course  of  the  word.  The  shadowy  forms  of  ten  thousand 
destinies,  sit  like  presiding  spirits  over  the  race,  and  like 
the  welling  messengers  of  old  Fate,  cheer  on  with  alluring 
hopes,  the  favored  ones  of  his  arbitrary  will,  and  cast 
subtle  meshes,  to  entangle  the  forsaken  victims  of  his  dis- 
favor. And  lo  ! what  aspects  cast  their  varied  colors  up- 
on the  world’s  unerring  vision,  as  its  anxious  eye  watches 
the  race,  and  idly  roams  from  time’s  judgment  seat,  down 
the  curriculum  of  existence.  Well  might  Justice  exclaim 
“0,  cold  disparity,  when  shalt  thou  be  undone?”  Well 
might  the,  angel  of  meney  cry,  “0,  iron-hearted  Fate, 
where  is  thy  charity  ?”  Well  might  fallen  Faith  mur- 
mur, “0, Nature  where  is  thy  boasted  Harmony  ?”  Well 
indeed  might  the  hoary-lieaded  Genius  of  History  weep 
with  a broken  heart, as  she  sits  bv  the  world’s  great  hearth 
stone,  and  with  quivering  lips  tells  the  sad  tale  to  the 
anxious  children  of  posterity.  For  although  the  racers 
start  forth  together,  at  a common  signal,  how  different 
are  the  gaits  with  which  they  travel  ! How  distantly 
apart  are  the  goals  they  reach  ! How  unequal  the  prizes 
they  win ! How  varied  the  tracks  they  leave  behind  them  ! 

Some  speed  down  the  life-course  as  swifty  and  nimbly 
as  the  fleet  Antelope,  skipping  over  the  plain.  Others 
decrepit  with  moral  rheumatism,  go  weaving  from  side  to 
side,  sadly  limping  all  the  way,  and  stumbling  at  every 
stride.  Soon  a few  representative  spirits  sally  forth  from 
the  deep  embattled  ranks  of  their  generation,  quickly  dis- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


125 

appearing  in  the  dim  distance  down  the  winding  course, 
and  their  clarion  shouts  of  triumph  make  the  welkin  ring, 
while  others,  drones  and  idlers,  0 ! how  many, are  swept 
onward  in  the  race  by  the  common  crowd,  like  the  idle 
floodwood  on  the  sweeping  tide.  Some  take  their  eternal 
rest  on  the  highest  summit  that  towers  upward  along  the 
track  of  life.  While  others,  before  the  course  is  half  run, 
go  tumbling  down  some  rocky  precipice,  to  end  their  bit- 
ter days  in  the  lower  depths  of  remorse  and  woe.  A few 
win  prizes  worthy  the  royal  blood  of  man  and  weave  for 
themselves  the  chaplets  of  immortal  glory  ; others  weave 
for  themselves  with  their  idle  fingers,  the  dark  shroud  of 
oblivion,  the  death-toga  of  the  tomb.  Some  trace  their 
life-track  as  straight  as  if  marked  by  a compass,  and  as 
enduring  as  a groove  chiseled  in  a rock.  But  others  leave 
a footpath,  as  crooked  as  the  winding  of  the  ripples  in  the 
water,  and  as  stayless  as  the  worm-trail  in  the  sand. — 
Some  men  become  swift  racers  by  industrious  training. — 
Others  are  limping  laggards  by  habitual  idleness.  Sonie 
by  ambition  are  willing  competitors  in  the  race.  Others 
are  dreamy  drones  by  indifference,  and  balky  by  contum- 
acy. The  few  are  winners,  because  they  have  a purpose 
and  a will  to  seek  it. 

The  many  are  disconsolate  losers,  because  they  are  not 
earnest  in  the  race  ; as  fickle  as  the  idle  winds, they  sheer 
off  at  every  shadow,  and  falter  at  every  turn.  The  life- 
forces  are  the  soul  of  earnestness,  and  without  earnestness 
life  would  be  but  the  idle  game  of  the  chess-board,  the 
sham- drama  of  a theatre.  Indeed,  to  the  greater  part  of 
mankind,  the  world  seems  more  like  a shadowy  ideality, 
than  a solid  reality  ; time,  only  an  everlasting  night  ; 
existence,  but  an  eternal  sleep.  They  swoon  in  the  fatal 
trance  of  contentment.  They  live  not  this  real  life.  They 
dream  only  of  a mystic  one,  beyond  the  sable  screen  of 


126  LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OFj 

death.  Hence  so  many  fancy  this  mundane  sphere, hut  the 
sporting  ground  for  time’s  merry  children  and  terrestrial 
life  hut  the  appointed  spell  of  their  existence.  Hence  the 
earth  is  turned  into  a great  lounging  saloon,  where  stain- 
ed window  panes  shut  out  the  sunshine  of  nature. 
It  is  dimly  illumined  with  the  flickering  lights  of  art; 
gilded  with  the  shallow  tinsels  of  pageantry  and  show  ; 
hung  with  false  pictures — the  libels  of  Nature  ; curtain- 
ed with  gorgeous  tapestry,  to  screen  vice  and  shame  and 
infamy  from  the  world’s  gaze  ; filled  with  cushioned  couch- 
es, where  the  votaries  of  pleasure  recline,  and  sip  the 
swimming  howl  to  the  hitter  dregs,  and  dreamy  idlers 
meet  to  gamble  with  the  messengers  of  Death,  to  pawn 
their  manhood  for  a repose  and  then  sleep  their  senseless 
lives  away. 

Thus  when  we  turn  over  the  leaves  of  centuries  in  the 
hook  of  Time, whose  title  is  the  “Autobiography  of  Man,” 
we  find  nought  but  cheerless  blanks,  to  show  that  gener- 
ations come  and  go  and  pass  from  a life  trance  without  a 
struggle,  into  the  slumber  of  the  tomb.  As  they  passed 
away,  no  tolling  bells  sounded  their  knell  upon  the  reluc- 
tant air.  No  weeping  minstrel  spirits  chanted  the  death 
dirge  over  their  lifeless  remains.  No  bright  beams  of 
Memory  come  to  chase  away  the  grim  shadows  that  hov- 
ered over  the  scene.  No  procession  of  mourning  friends 
with  reluctant  tread,  followed  the  rattling  bier  that  bore 
them  to  the  “City  of  the  Dead.”  They  were  wrapped  in 
their  own  dark  shroud  of  oblivion,  and  quietly  laid  on  the 
damp  pillow  of  the  grave. 

The  world  with  unclouded  countenance  looked  on  ; she 
heaved  not  a single  sigh  ; she  shed  not  a solitary  tear. — 
No  pain  of  remorse  touched  a single  nerve  ; no  word  of 
pity  played  upon  her  silent  lips.  She  felt  that  “ Old 
Death,”  prowling  under  the  midnight  shades,  had  laid  his 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


127 

snares  for  a worthless  prize  and  caught  the  paupers  of 
the  earth  for  his  prey.  But  when  we  look  into  the  se- 
cret depths  of  human  history,  and  study  the  philosophy 
of  human  success  and  human  failure,  we  find  that  a sub- 
lime destiny  is  always  the  achievement  of  a current  oflife 
forces  which  sweep  through  man’s  existence,  setting  into 
motion  the  humming  loom  of  his  being,  which  slowly 
weaves  out  the  warp  and  woof  of  his  history.  It  may  re- 
quire the  nimble  fingers  of  Genius  to  skillfully  manage 
the  swiftly  playing  shuttles,  as  they  carry  the  silken 
threads  which  make  up  the  web  of  life.  But  were  it  not 
for  these  motive  forces  the  loom  would  be  silent  and  rus- 
ty. No  shuttles  would  be  playing  ; no  threads  would  be 
crossing.  Alas,  no  web  would  be  Goven  ! No,  not  one 
to  keep  him  warm  through  the  wintry  nights  of  a cold 
Gorki,  to  wrap  around  him  in  sickness,  or  even  to  cover 
him,  as  a pall,  in  death. 

The  chief  of  the  life-forces  are  : Industry,  Ambition 
and  a Will.  They  alone  can  sound  the  nether  depths  of 
a man’s  being,  and  bring  up  the  jewels  imbedded  there, 
to  float  upon  the  surface  of  his  life.  They  alone  can  sub- 
due the  hostile  destinies  of  earth,  battle  with  the  storm- 
winds  and  bid  defiance  to  the  lightning  glare  of  Heaven. 

Only  the  genius  of  Industry  can  turn  a wilderness  into 
a paradise.  Only  Vigor  and  Ambition  can  climb  the  rug- 
ged mountain  height.  Only  an  iron  Will  can  shake  the 
pillar  of  Hercules  by  its  nod.  A strong  Will  is  the  Arch- 
imedean lever.  Take  Ambition  for  a fulcrum,  and  the 
genius  of  Industry  can  almost  topple  the  throne  of  Des- 
tiny and  move  the  foundations  of  the  woild. 

A few  men  who  embody  these  forces  constitute  the 
brains  of  generations,  in  which  all  the  nerves  of  a century 
center.  They  are  the  batteries  which'  charge  national 
systems  with  the  electric  current  of  public  sentiment. — 


128  LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 

The  world  talks  much  about  Genius  and  even  calls  it  the 
flash  of  destiny,  gleaming  from  the  brains  of  human  gods. 
But  it  matters  not  how  much  native  talent  a man  may 
possess,  it  is  certain  that  the  metal  flint  will  never  flash 
with  the  scintillations  of  Genius,  until  struck  by  the  sub- 
stone of  Industry. 

The  inner  depths  of  man  will  remain  pure  and  clear  as 
crystal,  so  long  as  they  are  stirred  into  commotion  by  the 
busy  spirits  of  activity,  but  will  become  stagnant  and 
green  with  filthy  scum  when  allowed  to  settle  down  in 
the  death-like  stillness  of  indolence.  How  many  there 
are  who,  clasping  the  tackling  ropes  of  Nature  with  an 
iron  grasp,  steadily  pull  themselves  up  from  loft  to  loft, 
higher  and  higher,  even  into  the  highest  niche  in  the 
temple  of  glory,  from  which  altitude  the  multitude  below 
seem  to  grovel  in  the  dust,  and  the  world  appears  to  be 
a field  of  mockery  ! While  thousands  whom  the  world 
says  possess  genius,  linger  in  idleness  upon  the  ground, 
expecting  to  be  borne  upwards,  as  if  upon  Unseen  wings 
of  destiny,  and  finally  degenerate  into  a pauper’s  living, 
upon  the  charity  of  the  world,  until  Death,  touched  with 
pity  for  their  destitution,  lays  them  down  to  moulder, 
without  a monument  in  the  Potter’s  field  of  earth. 

You  might  as  well  expect  the  plants  of  the  fertile  val- 
ley to  flourish  on  the  desert  <Sf  Sahara,  as  to  think  choice 
life-fortunes  to  bud  and  bloom  and  ripen  upon  the  waste 
of  indolent  existence,  where  refreshing  life-rains  never  fall 
and  Industry  never  sprinkles  its  silent  dew,  but  where 
death-winds  wail  a mournful  requiem  and  build  their 
sand-mounds  upon  the  plain. 

We  find  that  men  of  great  accomplishments  in  the  mis- 
sion of  life  are  always  assiduous  workers.  Humboldt, 
that  master-spirit  of  the  century,  that  center  of  light,  to 
whose  tread  the  labyrinthian  halls  of  Creation  were  won  t 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


129 

to  echo  through  all  their  windings,  and  to  whose  touch 
the  secret  doors  of  Nature  revealed  their  hidden  springs, 
and  turned  upon  their  golden  hinges,  gave  every  moment 
to  search  for  a hidden  lesson,  and  turned  the  universe  in- 
to  the  sphere  of  his  exertion.  He  went  forth  into  the 
harvest-field  of  Creation,  and  with  busy  fingers  garnered 
the  fruits  of  Nature  into  his  own  being.  He  toiled  and 
acquired  till  all  things  seemed  stored  in  himself  ; until 
he  could  scan  the  empire  of  philosophy  with  a single 
glance  and  revolve  the  world  in  his  brain. 

But  Ambition  is  also  a propelling  force  in  a successful 
life.  Indeed  it  is  the  mainspring  in  the  watch-work  of 
man’s  being.  It  turns  the  golden  hand  on  the  dial-plate 
of  human  destiny.  If  it  be  strong  as  steel,  then,  indeed, 
the  world  may  carry  man  in  her  pocket  for  a time-piece, 
and  the  tick-tick-tick  which  form  the  events  of  a man’s 
life,  shall  be  so  distinct  that,  the  world,  to  know  that  it  is 
still  running,  need  not  hold  it  to  her  ear.  A man  may 
have  many  brains  of  gold,  jewelled  with  the  finest  dia- 
monds, yet  if  this  mainspring  is  weak  or  broken,  the  life- 
pointer  moves  not ; time  flies,  but  no  wonted  tick  is  heard 
and  the  world  cries,  in  the  bitterness  of  her  grief,  “0, 
curse  that  pedler,  Destiny,  who  bartered  this  worthless 
watch  to  me  for  gold  ! ” 

Men  talk  much  about  false  ambition,  and  point  the  icy 
finger  of  disparagement  at  a marked  man,  as  he  moves 
swiftly  through  the  motley  crowd  down  the  course  of  life, 
saying,  “There  goes  a smart  man,  but  alas,  what  a pity  ! 
he  is  too  ambitious  and  rushing  to  his  own  destruction.” 
But  there  is  no  false  ambition.  It  is  not  a desire  ; it  is 
not  an  aspiration.  It  is  a force  of  existence.  It  is  ever 
onward  in  its  tendency  and  never  recoils.  Ambitious  men 
are  the  representative  leaders  of  generations,  but  drorfes 
are  the  ragged  stragglers  who  go  hobbling  on  behind. 

17 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


130 

When  you  look  out  upon  the  watery  waste  and  watch 
the  noble  steamer,  as  she  is  driven  with  frightful  speed 
over  the  waves  and  as  she  scuds  here  and  there,  as 
the  plaything  of  the  winds,  until  you  see  it  reel- 
ing in  some  whirlpool  or  dashed  into  fragments  against 
the  breakers  ; yoii  condemn  not  the  steam-power,,  nor 
the  drive- wheels,  but  you  condemn  the  mariner,  the  helms- 
man of  the  the  ship.  So  when  you  see  a man,  having  en- 
gaged in  the  commerce  of  life  upon  the  broad  sea  of  hu- 
man experience,  speeding  with  frightful  velocity  over  the 
elements,  and  driven  here  and  there,  and  rising  up  and 
plunging  down,  the  wreck  of  the  storm  and  the  sport  of 
the  surge,  until  you  behold  him  cast  away  upon  some  sea 
submerged  rock  or  wrecked  upon  some  craggy  reef.  Con- 
demn not  his  ambition  for  sweeping  him  so  swiftly,  but 
complain  against  his  moral  sense,  the  pilot  of  the  brain. 
Napoleon  was  the  very  incarnation  of  the  power  of  ambi- 
tion, and,  indeed  lie  was  the  strongest  man  the  world  has 
ever  seen.  -He  had  an  iron  constitution  and  nerves  of 
steel.  By  a single  word  he  could  win  the  messengers  of 
Fate,  and  frighten  the  hostile? elements  into  obedience  by 
a single  glance.  When  he  spoke  the  world  said,  “Hark! 
Surely  it  thunders  ! ” When  he  struck  the  world  quail- 
ed as  if  smitten  with  a lightning  bolt.  But  a strong 
will  can  only  bridle  the  fractious  forces  of  human  na- 
ture, and  train  them  to  the  work  of  worthy  mission. — 
It  is  the  staysail  of  the  frigate  of  man.  It  keeps  his  bark 
erect  upon  the  billow,  and  swells  full  with  the  monsoons 
of  the  world,  that  drive  him  onward  in  the  voyage  of  life. 
Without  this  no  man  can  stem  the  counter  currents,  and 
buffet  the  waves  of  the  world’s  sea.  He  becomes  the 
passive  prey  of  the  tempest,  and  rocks  to  and  fro  like  a 
wreck  upon  the  sporting  surge,  until  a swift  gust  comes 
sweeping  over  the  deep,  casting  him  away  forever,  upon 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLAKKE  DICE. 


131 


somedonely  island,  where  nought  hut  surge  and  sea- 
winds  roar  upon  the  rocky  strand.  We  see  that  men 
possessed  of  a determination  to  go  ahead,  have  an  unseen 
hut  resistless  power.  They  rush  through  difficulties,  as 
if  they  were  silken  spider  webs,  and  as  they  sweep  down 
the  winding  course  of  life,  the  world  hows  and  stands  hack? 
to  make  room  for  them  to  pass.  While  you  will 
see  the  fickle  crowd,  standing  at  the  corner  of  every  street, 
waiting  for  some  favorable  time  to  cross.  Such  are  foil- 
ed in  every  purpose  and  check-mated  at  every  move. — 
When  on  that  barren  island,  on  whose  beach  the  wild 
Pacific  roared,  and  heaved  its  surges, — where  Solitude 
sat  undisturbed  upon  her  shadowy  throne,  and  desolation 
seemed  to  screen  the  cheerful  world  with  its  sable  curtain, 
that  brave  Man  made  that  mark  in  the  sand,  and  striding 
across  it,  exclaimed  to  his  disconsolate  companions,  “This 
way  leads  to  Peru,  and  to  gold — that  to  Panama  and 
beggary  ; let  the  noble  Castdans  make  the  choice,” — the 
victory  was  already  halt  won.  Francisco  Pizarro  already 
held  Peru  struggling  in  his  iron  grasp,  and  the  Inca  was 
purchasing  his  life  with  gold.  Hannibal  was  the  Cartha- 
genean  lever  which  shook  the  foundations  of  Europe,  be- 
fore whose  gaze  the  Alpine  cliffs  bowed  their  haughty 
peaks,  and  seemed  to  shake  off  their  locks  of  perpetual 
snow,  and  before  whose  frown,  Rome,  proud  Rome,  Mis- 
tress of  the  world,  was  tottering  upon  her  iron  legs,  as  be- 
fore the,  glance  of  Destiny.  All  know  that  Hannibal  had 
an  iron  will,  and  who  dares  say  that  “Hannibal  was  not 
mighty,” — all  these. forces  united  in  a triune  power  indeed 
shall  be  man.  What  depth  shall  not  yield  up  to  him 
its  secret  treasures  P What  heights  shall  boast,  them- 
selves uncalled  by  mortal  man  ? What  destiny  shall 
not  yield  to  his  magic  touch  its  hidden  springs.  0 Indo- 
lence ! Mother  of  Despair  ! where  is  tthy  consolation  ? 


132 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


0 Content,  Sister  of  Death  ! where  is  thy  comfort  ? 0, 

Fickleness  ! yea  forlorn  child  of  the  surge  ! Where  is  thy 
hope  star,  and  how  can’st  thou  excel  ? 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


133 


\ 


THE  OLD  YEAR. 


How  like  snow-flakes,  falling  at  sunny  noon-day,  the 
silent  moments  melt  away  ! How  like  the  phantoms  of 
a dream,  the  life-forms  of  a year  flit  and  steal,  unseen, 
away  ! Indeed  the  reality  of  to-day  is  but  the  shadow, 
cast  by  the  reality  of  yesterday.  Present  life  is  but  the 
echo  of  vanished  life  returning.  The  world  revolves  so 
swiftly,  in  its  circle  of  time,  that  to-day’s  events,  striking 
it  like  an  elastic  hall,  rebound,  and  will  strike  it  some- 
where else  to-morrow.  Years  fall  upon  it  in  their  suc- 
cessive turns,  and  glance  into  the  past,  like  facts  immut- 
able, cast  from  the  wheel  of  destiny.  Moments  crawl  like 
death-worms,  upon  the  chain  of  existence,  and  gnaw  off 
the  golden  life-cords,  which  anchor  generations  to  the 
moorings  of  the  living.  But  lo  ! to-day,  a sad  scene 
passes  before  the  world’s  vision  ! For,  though  the  finger 
of  destiny  points  us  to  the  rich  treasures  of  a new  horn 
year,  and  prospects  fair,  come  steaking  down  the  wide, 
winding  aisle  of  coming  time,  yet  the  genius  of  the  world 
smitten  with  grief,  and  bowed  with  tears,  weeps  over  the 
lost,  the  vanished  year,  and  yearns  to  linger  longer  around 
the  newly  made  grave  of  1861.  The  past  throws  an  en- 
chantment over  the  world,  and  from  vanished  scenes, 
stretch  countless  mystic  chords  of  memory,  and  affection, 
that  twine  around  the  filaments  of  the  soul,  and  chain  us 
captives  to  their  power.  And  thus,  while  hope,  and  cour- 
age greet  and  cheer  the  morning  of  another  year,  let 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


134 

memory  invoke  the  slumbering  spirit  of  the  departed  one, 
and  pronounce  upon  the  world’s  tribute  of  respect. 

Yes,  another  year  has  ebbed  away,  mingling  with  all 
that  have  gone  before  ; mighty  with  great  events,  bright 
with  cheerful  hopes,  immortal  in  everlasting  fruitions. 
18G1  is  no  more.  Its  life  has  passed  into  history.  Its 
glory  is  the  weal,  its  shame  the  woe,  of  all  that  has  pass- 
ed, since  it  first  dawned.  As  evanescent  thought  shad- 
ows  steal  softly  over  the  mind,  so  the  old  year  has  crept 
over  the  world,  and  naught  but  quickly  made  foot-prints 
are  left  behind.  It  came,  and  who  knew  it  ? It  stayed, 
and  who  hath  seen  it  P It  has  sped  away,  and  who  can 
show  a relic  of  its  being  ? But  years  are  the  great  en- 
gines that  draw  an  endless  train  of  consequences  from 
one  emporium  to  another,  along  the  course  of  time,  freight- 
ed with  all  the  treasures  of  the  past,  the  hidden  fates, 
and  fortunes  of  the  future.  Therefore,  when  the  mighty 
engine  comes  puffing  up  the  track  of  ages,  drawing  an 
endless  train  into  the  great  central  depot  of  a century, 
then  all  at  once  the  shrill  whistle  blast  breaks  upon  the 
startled  air,  and  the  bell  peals  forth  its  chime  of  warning; 
then  the  idle  and  busy  people  of  the  world  rush  forth  to- 
gether, some  nimble  with  elastic  hope,  others  trembling 
with  wasting  fear,  some  jubilant  with  high  expectations, 
others  despondent  with  sad  forebodings — all  anxious  to 
see  what  fate  has  sent  them  by  the  last  train,  to  know 
their  fortunes,  and  read  their  destinies.  Then  what  a 
scene  presents  itself  to  view,  abounding  in  mingled  shades 
and  shadows  dark!  There  stands  one  whose  heart  swells 
with  overflowing  joy.  But  there  is  another,  bound  in 
grief,  whose  soul  surges,  as  if  smitten  with  despair.  Sat- 
isfaction rests  like  placid  sunshine  upon  the  former’s 
brow,  but  heartless  disappointment  casts  shadows  across 
the  latter’s  soul,  and  stares  vacant  from  his  sunken  eyes. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


135 

There  decrepit  age,  to  favor  given,  offers  thanks  to  the 
fates,  which  have  presided  over  the  destinies  of  the  year. 
Yonder  disappointed  childhood  sits  weeping  over  a pau- 
per’s lot,  and  pronounces  luck  and  chance  the  world’s 
great  scheme,  and  life’s  prospects  but  the  phantoms  of  a 
sickly  dream.  The  train  was  freighted  with  priceless 
fruitions  for  one,  while  the  fortunes  of  another  are  swept 
away,  like  the  wreck  of  a sorry  vision.  Thus  we  see 
changes  in  the  world’s  great  scene,  from  foul  to  fair, from 
happiness  to  despair.  Fate  scatters  not  its  blessings  with 
an  even  hand.  For  some,  the  departed  year  came,  as  the 
missionary  of  success  and  fortunes  bright.  To  another 
it  told  the  sad  tale  of  defeat,  of  prospects  dimmed,  and 
chances  lost.  To  some,  it  showed  the  cheerful  picture  of 
a wise  experience,  together  with  its  untold  fruitions  ; to 
others,  it  revealed  their  movements  on  the  chess-board  of 
life,  where  by  fickle  mishap,  pawns  have  been  swept  away 
and  knights  sacrificed  to  folly  and  inattention.  To  some, 
it  has  been  the  swelling  wave  that  bore  them  to  giddy 
bights  of  glory  and  transcendent  power,  to  others  it  has 
ebbed,  and  sunk  away,  lowering  them  down  to  the  nether 
depths  of  misfortune,  obloquy,  and  woe.  Upon  some  it 
conferred  the  pledge  of  long  life,  and  the  deed  to  far 
sweeeping  possessions  ; to  others,  disease,  death,  and  the 
title  to  the  tomb.  But  why  murmui  at  the  immutable 
dealings  of  Fate  ? Why  curse  the  Infinite  economy  ? 
The  world  is  a great  lottery,  and  all  men  are  gambling 
for  a fortune.  Success  is  but  for  the  few,  losses  for  the 
many,  and  some  must  needs  draw  blanks..  Life  is  but  an 
uncertain  experiment,  a voyage  upon  a boundless  sea 
without  a guiding  star  and  without  compass  ; a game  of 
chance  played  with  the  destinies  of  earth  and  skillful  indeed 
must  he  be  who  never  makes  false  movements,  and  for- 
tunate who  by  dint  of  shrewdness,  chances  to  win  the 


136 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


stake.  How  different  the  old  year  appears  in  the  several 
lives  of  men,  as  each  turns  hack  once  more,  to  hid  it  a re- 
luctant adieu,  and  take  a retrospect  of  his  hygone  career. 
For  some  beautiful  monuments  of  achievements  break  out 
upon  the  delighted  vision.  Broad  landscapes  stretch  out 
to  view,  blooming  with  pleasant  and  unfading  recollec- 
tions, that  breathe  their  aroma  into  the  soul.  While  to 
others  appear  naught  but  mossy  Avrecks  of  great  under- 
takings, crumbling  to  the  dust,  blasted  prospects  wither- 
ed to  the  ground,  rugged  cliffs  and  deep-sounding  abysses 
infested  with  infernal  spirits,  that  mocked  them  as  they 
ran  and  pointed  the  finger  of  ridicule  at  the  ruins  of 
their  defeat.  And  to  those  Avho  idled  away  their  lives, 
and  spread  not  a single  net  to  catch  the  opportunities,  and 
the  chances  as  they  went  floating  down  the  stream  of 
Time,  it  looks  like  a barren  and  desolate  waste.  It  has 
no  shrub  nor  forest  wild  to  cheer  the  Avandering  eye,  and 
break  off  the  chilly  life- wind  that  comes  sweeping  over  the 
desert  plain,  to  hoarsely  whisper  in  their  reluctant  ears 
the  lesson  of  plundered  Nature  and  wasted  time.  Now 
that  the  old  year  has  bid  the  Avorld  farewell  and  gone  to 
its  eternal  rest,  who  shall  test  its  merits  by  the  touch- 
stone of  individual  experience,  or  measure  its  duration 
by  degree  of  individual  progress?  It  has  matured  the  ele- 
ments of  one  of  the  greatest  struggles  which  time  has  ever 
witnessed,  and  held  the  scales  in  which  the  world’s  future 
weal,  was  balanced  against  its  future  Avoe.  It  taught  the 
nations  a lesson  of  political  philosophy,  and  solved  for 
an  anxious  Avorld,  the  greatest  problem  of  the  age.  Its 
records  unfold  the  iron  logic  of  events,  and  if  the  future 
generations  study  it  properly,  then  indeed,  the  world  shall 
reason  Avell.  Especially  will  the  departed  year  mark  a 
distinguished  period  in  the  progress  of  American  Em- 
pire. It  seemed  to  constitute  the  mighty  hinge  in  our 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE.  137 

Nation’s  history,  on  which  Western  civilization  was  lia- 
ble to  swing. 

The  Genius  of  the  age,  seeing  our  fate  trembling  in  the 
balance, declared  that  1861  would  he  the  morn  of  a bright 
epoch  in  American  progress,  or  the  evening  of  our  Na- 
tion’s existence.  The  year  has  passed  into  eternity,  hut 
America  still  exists,  a nationality,  independent,  powerful 
and  brave,  and  the  cheering  light  begins  to  gleam  through 
the  rifted  clouds  which  once,  like  the  pall  of  Death,  over- 
hung the  Nation’s  destiny.  The  year  taught  the  lesson 
by  sad  experience,  that  the  world  ought  to  have  learned 
before,  that  antagonistic  principles  cannot  exist  in  peace 
nor  operate  in  harmony  with  each  other,  for  each  natural- 
ly tending  toward  universal  empire,  one  must  prevail  to 
the  ruin  of  the  other.  And  1 believe,  that  it  has  solved 
affirmatively,  whether  or  not  a nation  can  be  free,  and  at 
the  same  time  permanent  ; whether  popular  government 
may  be  trusted  as  well  as  he  feared. 

Shall  the  hand  of  Treason  hurl  from  the  watch-towers 
of  the  Republic,  the  beacon-lights  of  hope  and  charity 
and  equal  rights,  which  the  spirit  of  ’76  placed  there  to 
radiate,  upon  the  world’s  troubled  sea,  to  light  up  the 
course  of  wandering  nations  ? Shall  that  tree  which  our 
fathers  watered  with  their  blood,  and  nurtured  with  tender 
care  under  whose  widely  extended  houghs  all  mankind 
may  gather,  and  he  protected  from  the  summer’s  heat, and 
the  winter’s  icy  blast,  which  has  already  defied  and  hut- 
feted  the  howling  storm-winds,  and  pelting  hail  and  fiery 
lightnings  of  three  quarters  of  a century — shall  it  be  strick- 
en down  in  all  its  glory  and  beauty  and  power  ? Never  ! 
Never  ! NEVER  ! The  Genius  of  America  rises  in  all 
the  majesty  of  her  power,  and  cries  to  the  spirit  of  Con- 
spiracy, 

18 


138 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


“ Woodman  spare  that  tree, 

Touch  not  a single  hough, 

In  youth  it  sheltered  me 
And  I’ll  protect  it  now.” 

Despotism  trembles  upon  its  rocking  throne,  and  Re- 
bellion recoils  at  its  own  damnable  undertaking.  So  pro- 
found is  that  current  of  Patriotism  and  love  of  Liberty 
which  sweeps  through  the  Nation’s  soul,  that  before  he 
would  see  Republican  Government  fail,  or  his  country 
fall,  the  last  American  Patriot  would  write  his  epitaph 
upon  her  ruins,  and  seal  his  devotion  with  his  blood. — 
There  are  distinctive  periods,  in  time’s  endless  sweep,  in 
which  the  forces  of  the  world  seem  to  recoil  a little, to  gain 
new  strength  and  power  for  making  greater  achievements 
and  more  transcendent  strides  in  their  general  progress. — 
Justbefore  the  Genius  of  the  Reformation  had  broken  that 
troubled  dream  and  chased  away  the  idle  phantoms, which 
during  the  night  ot  the  middle  ages  had  played  upon  the 
bewildered,  the  forces  of  Progress  had  rolled  back  in  their 
course,  leaving  European  Civilization  at  its  lowest  ebb. 
But  when  they  gathered  themselves  and  rushed  forward 
again,  they  swept  away  the  shadowy  ghosts  and  crumb- 
ling wrecks  of  that  awful  night,  and  hore  the  world  to  a 
sublime  altitude  and  glory.  To  us  it  is  a sad  but  famil- 
iar tale,  how  our  forefathers  were  persecuted  and  plunder- 
ed of  their  dearest  rights. 

To  what  a low  ehb  the  tide  of  civilization  had  sunk, 
when  the  Revolution  burst  forth  upon  the  world,  sweep- 
ing away  the  tottling  land-marks  of  European  power, and 
breaking  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  from 
the  moorings  of  an  age  of  despotism,  absolutism  and  of 
woe!  It  may  be  that  1861  shall  mark  such  a period  in 
our  Nation’s  history.  I trust  that  the  forces  of  American 
Progress  have  rolled  back  only  to  gain  new  strength  and 
power  for  surging  against  the  barriers  of  the  age  ; to 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


139 

sweep  away  the  old  institutions  of  wickedness  and  oppres- 
sion which  cast  their  grim  shadows  all  over  the  land,  and 
throw  our  struggling  and  bleeding  country  upon  the  high- 
est wave  of  national  glory.  A sad  hour  was  that  for  our 
trembling  country  when  the  report  ot  Sumter’s  fall  rung 
upon  the  world’s  reluctant  ear.  The  evil  Genius  of  the 
age  pointed  the  finger  of  ridicule  at  her  blackened  walls, 
and  presaged  ruin  and  woe  to  America  and  her  laws. — 
Monarchy  grinned  a ghostly,  horrible  smile.  But  Liberty 
shrieked  as  if  before  the  glance  of  Death,  and  the  Genius 
of  America  bowed  and  wept  for  the  degeneracy  of  her 
children.  But  the  cannon  hall,  before  which  Fort  Sum- 
ter crumbled,  I believe  has  reboUnded  and  aimed  a death- 
blow at  the  very  heart  of  the  rebellion.  Slavery  cannot 
survive  this  struggle.  The  finger  of  Fate  has  written 
that  decree  in  the  book  of  destiny  with  the  life-fluid  of 
patriots  who  have  nobly  died  upon  the  altar  of  their  coun- 
try ; with  the  blood  of  the  generous  and  noble-hearted 
Winthrop  ; with  the  blood  of  the  brave  and  daring  Lyon  ; 
alas,  with  the  blood  of  the  fearless  and  eloquent  Baker. 
And  now  no  power  on  earth  can  revoke  or  blot  it  out.  ’ 

If  we  can  understand  the  logic  of  events,  we  may  just- 
ly believe  that  under  the  surface  of  the  progress  of  that 
struggle,  from  its  origin  to  the  delivering  up  of  Mason  and 
Slidell,  there  sweeps  a nether  current  of  forces, which  will 
break  up  and  purify  the  foundations  of  the  Nation’s  deep, 
and  work  out  our  country’s  sublimest  destiny.  When 
the  storm-winds  shall  go  to  rest,  and  the  sable  clouds  o’er 
our  heads  shall  drift  away,  the  spirit  of  Peace  shall  again 
inspire  our  land  with  new  life  and  vigor  as  by  a magic 
touch, and  stud  the  firmament  of  our  future  destiny  with 
starry  prospects.  Then  the  world  shall  join  in  celebrating 
the  Nation’s  jubilee,  and  the  voice  of  all  mankind  attun- 
ed to  a common  song,  shall  swell  the  praise  of  1S61. 


140 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


COUNTER  CURRENTS. 

Through  the  world  there  flows  a silvery  stream,  and 
that  life-stream  never  runs  smoothly.  Experience  is  in- 
deed a troubled  tide,  sweeping  down  the  course  of  time, 
for  the  sporting  children  of  Fate,  playing  upon  its  hanks, 
cast  many  a stone  to  make  ripples  upon  its  surface,  and 
it  is  ruffled  by  many  a fickle  breeze  of  chance.  The  hand 
of  tranquillity  can  never  smooth  down  its  rolling  ripples. 
The  fisherman  of  life,  sitting  upon  the  overhanging  rock, 
may  cast  forth  his  net,  but  only  once  in  the  same  waters. 
The  angels  of  destiny  may  fling  the  events  of  time  upon 
its  bosom,  but  those  events  can  only  sink  to  the  bottom, 
and  can  never  stop  its  onward  ceaseless  flow.  The  pale 
moon  of  destiny,  wandering  along  her  vaulted  pathway, 
rocks  the  tide  of  experience  to  and  fro  upon  its  everlast- 
ing balance,  and  as  Chance,  sitting  upon  her  shadowy 
throne,  sweeps  her  steel  trident  through  the  world’s  great 
life-stream,  ten  thousand  counter  currents  rise,  and  strug- 
gle, and  ripple,  like  murmuring  rills,  through  its  bosom. 
Look  up  and  down  the  stream  from  every  judgment  seat 
ot  our  existence,  and  lo  !vve  see  counter  waves  heaved  from 
their  beds,  bounding  against  and  after  one  other,  through 
the  storm,  all  over  the  sweep,  from  shore  to  shore — the 
cradle  and  the  grave.  Now  one  rises  up  higher  and  high- 
er, like  a spiral  column,  as  if  to  kiss  the  heavens.  But 
soon  another  surges  against  it  and  quickly  it  tumbles  and 
scatters  in  the  wind  like  a mountain  of  feathery  spray. — - 
Now  Fate  hurls  it  into  its  unconscious  depths,  the  light- 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


141 

ning’s  shafts,  forged  by  the  finger  of  God  to  break  up  the 
nether  foundations,  and  anon  her  thundering  voice,  rum- 
bles along  the  trembling  elements,  warning  the  mariners 
on  life’s  sea.  Now  the  listless  winds  sigh  over  the  depths, 
like  the  wail  of  a dying  storm  stirring  them  into  gentle 
pulsations,  and  on  the  little  waves  all  mankind  leap  and 
swing  as  light-footed  dancers  in  the  ball-room  of  the  sea. 
But  soon  the  dripping  wings  of  the  tempest  lash  the  wild 
elements  into  fury,  and  the  howling  storm,  rocking  them 
to  and  fro,  seems  to  sport  with  the  freighted  fleets  and 
iron-clad  navies  of  the  world. 

The  world’s  life-stream  is  full  of  deep-sounding  eddies, 
whose  depths  turn  in  a ceaseless  whirl  ; of  mighty  reefs, 
on  which  the  sweeping  current  breaks  and  rolls  back  in 
curls  to  wind  around  the  breakers,  and  is  rippled  every- 
where by  ten  thousand  tributary  rills  that  come  flowing 
down  the  mountain  vales,  from  the  fountains  of  creation; 
and  thus  it  sweeps  on,  and  ever  on,  through  Time’s  mazy 
windings,  over  rocky  beds  and  down  frightful  plunges, 
and  thus  all  the  life-rills  of  creation  mingle  in  a common 
destiny — the  bosom  of  God. 

Thus  the  tide  of  the  world’s  experience  flows  roughly 
on,  silently  bearing  away  the  varied  fruitions,  the  gains 
and  losses,  the  hopes  and  fears,  the  sadness  and  gladness 
of  life,  to  oblivion’s  gulf,  the  world’s  common  tomb. — 
Throughout  existence,  both  in  the  realm  of  matter  and  of 
mind,  currents  of  opposing  forces  are  everywhere  meeting, 
struggling,  defeating  and  yielding,  as  may  chance  to  rule 
the  angels  of  destiny  which  preside  over  success  and  de- 
feat— the  law  and  logic  of  life. 

Conflict  is  the  natural  order  in  the  universal  economy, 
the  positive  force  of  all  progressive  existence.  It  is  the 
antipode  of  inaction,  and  inactivity  is  the  scepter  which 
Death,  sitting  upon  his  shadowy  throne,  would  wield  over 


142  LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OFj 

an  universal  empire.  From  the  fates  which  preside  at 
the  poles  of  creation  roll  forth  opposing  tides,  and  when 
they  sweep  down  and  meet  on  the  common  battle-field  of 
the  equator,  Nature  sounds  trumpet,  for  the  conflict  is 
fiercely  waged  and  her  legions  must  all  join  in  the  com- 
bat. 

As  Fate  opens  the  windows  of  her  temple,  and  scatters 
her  works  broadcast  over  the  deep,  they  are  quickly 
caught  up  by  the  curling  waves  of  Fortune,  chasing  one 
other,  as  they  scud  round  and  round  the  world,  until  they 
break  and  vanish  and  are  seen  no  more.  One  hour  comes 
to  us  as  the  winged  messenger  of  joy  and,  with  pinions  of 
memory  and  hope,  brings  recollections  and  hopes  to  cheer 
the  solitudes  of  existence  ; but  always  in  its  wake  comes 
another,  floating  down,  as  the  reluctant  carrier  of  grief,  in 
whose  train  a troop  of  shadows  flit  close  behind  to  spread 
sorrow  and  sadness  through  the  heart.  Yesterday,  by 
success  made  strong  in  courage,  we  rejoiced  over  the 
trophies  of  victory  and  praised  the  faithtulness  of  Fortune. 
To-day,  by  defeat  hopeless  in  despair,  we  curse  the  fickle- 
ness of  luck,  and  weep  over  the  treachery  of  Fate.  Yes- 
terday, the  little  silent  mystic  weavers  of  our  being,  sat 
at  the  humming  loom  of  the  brain,  and  with  busy  fingers, 
quietly  attended  the  noiseless  shuttles  of  imagination,  as 
they  carried  backward  and  forward  the  subtle  dream 
threads  of  the  mind,  and  thus  weaving  out  a bright  and 
gorgeous  vision  of  the  future.  But  the  same  messengers 
come  stealing  down  the  hours,  smiling  at  our  thoughts, 
as  they  were  flitting  by,  until  to-day  grim  reality,  dimin- 
ishing our  vision  with  tears,  and  we  children  of  delusion, 
alas  ! how-fallen,  sit  mourning  over  the  wrecks  of  ideal 
castles,  which  fancy  built  along  the  highway  of  the  fu- 
ture. Thus  it  is.  Reality  ever  disguises  herself,  and 
with  noiseless  tread,  steals  down  the  secret  aisles  of  the 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


143 

world,  never  faltering,  never  turning,  but  ever  moving  on- 
ward, and  without  one  signal,  without  a word  of  greeting 
takes  all  mankind  by  surprise,  and  reads  to  them  a lesson 
of  the  future,  from  the  book  of  destiny.  But  delusion 
robing  herself  in  the  pilfered  garb  of  reality,  wanders  un- 
suspected in  day-light,  through  the  bustling  streets  of 
life,  stealing  away  the  consciousness  of  the  world,  and 
pointing  the  shadowy  linger  of  deception,  as  if  some  bright 
prize  flashes  ahead,  she  rushes  on,  and  all  mankind,  with 
light  hearts  and  nimble  feet,  follow  in  quick  pursuit  un- 
til her  mask  falls  off,  like  a fog  that  robes  the  morning, 
and  perchance  the  walls  of  folly  girt  them  round,  and 
they  are  left  forlorn,  to  wander  like  children  lost  in  wil- 
derness. And  anon,  the  Genius  of  night,  ascending  her 
shadowy  throne,  flings  out  her  curtain  to  wrap  them 
round  and  dismal  specters  sport  in  its  fringes.  Then 
solemn  life-thoughts  begin  to  creep  softly  over  the  return- 
ing consciousness  of  the  lone  wanderers.  Fading  memo- 
ries, blasted  hopes,  and  ruined  fortunes,  can  only  tell  the 
tale  of  their  delusion,  and  remorse  begins  to  play  with 
its  icy  fingers,  upon  the  tender  feelings  that  string  the 
lyre  of  the  heart. 

Then,  when  the  dark-winged  angels  of  shame  and  ruin 
and  death  silently  break  from  their  nether  homes,  and 
prowl  as  midnight  messengers  upon  their  heels  through 
the  deep  solitudes  of  their  pilgrimage,  they  wail  and  shriek 
and  cry  for  help,  and  anon  the  nimble  messengers  of  Fate, 
each  with  little  lanterns  lighted  at  the  throne  of  Diety, 
come  lightly  tripping  down  the  world  to  search  out  the 
despairing  children  of  delusion,  and  to  lead  them  forth 
again,  upon  the  highlands  of  existence,  where  the  orb  of 
truth,  wheeling  through  an  unveiled  sky,  weaves  its  tex- 
ture and  flings  the  robe  of  light  around,  and  now  and 
then,  to  refresh  the  floating  clouds,  drop  their  rainy  tears 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


144 

and  iife-winds,  cool  and  bracing,  gently  sweep  and  sigh 
thorugh  the  shady  groves  and  fan  the  feverish  brow  of 
Day  and  sport  with  the  loose  robe  of  Night. 

On  Creation’s  broad  sweep,  Fate  draws  up  his  troops 
of  opposing  destinies,  and  presides  over  the  conflict  as 
they  fight  the  battles  of  the  world’s  history,  and  victory 
seems  but  an  elastic  ball,  ever  bounding  backwards  and 
forwards,  between  the  contending  forces.  Indeed,  un- 
seen down  in  some  dim  and  secret  chamber  of  creation, 
the  brilliant  dramatists  of  destiny,  long  since  planned 
and  wrote  the  Drama  of  life,  in  the  sealed  book  of  the  fu- 
ture, and  we,  as  chosen  actors,  have  only  met  in  the  great 
theater,  to  rehearse  our  parts  before  the  audience  of 
the  world,  and  surely  how  varied  the  scenes  in  which  we 
appear  ! How  often  are  the  parts  changed  from  good  to 
bad,  from  better  perhaps,  to  worse  ! How  many  differ- 
ent characters  we  represent  in  the  play,  and  how  often  do 
we  change  our  outward  garb  and  exchange  the  shadows 
and  sunshine  of  the  soul.  While  with  one  hand,  we  rock 
the  cradle  of  innocent  childhood,  with  the  other  we  smooth 
the  damp  pillow  of  the  grave.  While  with  the  eye  of  Hope, 
we  gaze  upon  ideal  life-pictures,  hung  along  the  secret 
windings  of  the  future,  the  eye  of  Memory  roams  among 
the  deserted  scenes  of  the  past  and  drops  a hot  tear  here 
and  there,  upon  the  ruins  of  departed  greatness.  While 
with  one  ear  we  hear  the  anxious  cry  of  posterity,  swelling 
from  the  bosom  of  the  future,  and  telling  the  noisy  world 
to  be  quiet  for  a moment,  with  the  other  we  listen  to  the 
Fathers  and  the  voice  of  the  tomb.  Laughing,  weeping, 
hoping,  despairing,  sighing  and  rejoicing,  are  all  distinc- 
tive parts  in  our  common  lot. 

The  good  old  dame,  Fortune,  ever  weaving  and  mend- 
ing for  her  children,  has  countless  different  garbs  for  us, 
hung  up  in  the  secret  closets  of  the  world,  and  when  the 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


145 

world,  and  when  the  scene  changes,  we  go  to  themf  and 
robe  ourselves  in  habiliments  appropriate  to  the  parts  we 
play.  And  as  we  progress  in  playing  the  drama,  the 
crowded  world  from  pit  to  dome,  viewing  us  through  the 
opera-glass  of  criticism,  is  ever  ready  to  manifest  her 
feeling  of  displeasure,  or  delight.  For  the  world  is  no 
stoic.  Now  we  are  cheered  by  the  sunny  countenances 
and  the  hearty  applause  of  the  audience,  but  anon,  cha- 
grined by  mistakes,  we  quail  before  the  shadowy  frown, 
and  quiver  under  the  hoarse  hisses,  that  flutter  on  their 
lips.  And  thus  success  and  failure  alternately  play  upon 
our  being.  The  “Harp  of  a thousands  strings,”  tuned  to 
sadness  and  gladness,  swells  forth  the  music  of  the  heart. 
To-day,  light-hearted  childhood  frolics  and  sports  with 
its  tiny  pi  ay- thing's  ; to-morrow,  old  age  with  wrinkled 
visage,  and  trembling  limbs,  and  bowed  head,  will  totter 
under  the  shadow  of  the  tomb. 

What  one  event  digs  from  the  world’s  mines,  and 
willingly  stores  in  the  treasury  of  our  lives,  another  un- 
locking the  doors  with  keys,  filches  like  a midnight  thief 
and  flings  to  the  plunder  managers  of  the  world.  Indeed, 
the  world  is  a revolving  swing  perpetually  sweeping 
around  upon  its  axis,  and  we  the  passengers  sitting  in 
its  hanging  seats,  are  thus  riding  through  life,  up  and 
down,  sometimes  high  and  sometimes  low,  ever  between 
joy  and  grief,  weal  and  woe.  Every  human  experience  is 
a monument,  whose  pedestal  is  based  in  the  bosom  of 
Gnd.  But  as  the  destinies  of  life  descend  into  the  world’s 
great  quarry,  to  break  off  and  hew  out  the  block  with 
which  to  rear  the  monument  from  its  base,  until  its  pin- 
nacle shall  lean  against  the  sky  of  immortality,  they 
never  take  the  block  oi  the  same  color,  nor  ever  chisel 
the/m  into  the  same  form  and  shape,  nor  ever  place  them 
in  like  positions,  in  the  great  structure.  Surely  human 
19 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


146 

experience  is  a wonderful  monument.  Hopeful  child- 
hood sports  upon  its  base.  Old  age  with  hoary  locks  un- 
covered, sits  weeping  on  its  pinnacle. 

Ambition’s  childhood  yearns  to  mount  time's  mystic  lad- 
der, on  rounds  of  years,  to  snatch  the  treasures  of  Destiny. 
Old  age  to  whom  the  world  seems  but  a delusive  shadow, 
and  life  hut  a troubled  dream,  longs  to  descend  and 
mingle  once  more  with  the  busy  life-forms  that  once 
played  in  the  scenes  of  the  morning  of  life.  Unskilled 
childhood  on  whose  cheek  the  smile  'of  innocence  softly 
plays, and  in  whose  eye  hope  beams  brightly,  and  from 
whose  heart  courage  flashes  forth,  looking  up,  beholds  star- 
ry prospects  twinkling  all  over  the  future  of  life.  Old  age 
on  whose  wrinkled  cheek  the  icy  finger  of  time  has  writ- 
ten a sad  tale,  on  whose  quivering  lips,  words  of  sadness 
lingeringly  seem  to  flutter,  in  whose  dim  and  tearful  eyes 
already  the  lamp  of  life  burns,  faintly  and  feebly  glim- 
mers, looking  sees  naught,  but  the  vanishing  shadows 
of  the  past,  flitting  life-forms  silently  stealing  away,  pale 
memories  fading  in  the  distance,  blasted  hopes  withering 
and  drooping,  ruined  fortunes  lost  forever,  and  beautiful 
ideal  worlds  wrecked  in  chaos.  But  these  antipodal 
forces,  not  only  prevail  throughout  existence,  but  rule 
the  fortune  of  individual  and  collective  man. 

Counter  currents  drive  the  destiny  wheels  of  ages,  and 
sweep  through  the  life-stream  of  empire.  The  genius  of 
one  age  weaves  its  robe  of  customs  and  laws  around 
the  world,  which  the  genius  of  another  tears  off  and  flings 
away,  when  dingy  with  the  dust  of  the  pilgrimage, 
and  rent  and  tattered  by  the  the  wear  of  sweaty  years. 
The  destiny-artists  of  one  age,  hang  their  brightest  ideals 
in  the  picture  gallery  of  the  world,  seeming  to  challenge 
improvement,  but  as  years  creep  down  the  slope  of  time 
and  generations  breathe  upon  them,  they  fade  and  others, 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


147 

ancl  more  beautiful  ones,  are  hung  in  their  places.  Thus 
we  read  the  story  of  time.  Thus  we  learn  the  lessons  of 
destiny.  But  how  clearly  we  can  see  this  law  of  counter- 
currents  ruling  in  the  fate  of  empires  ! Roll  back  the 
tide  of  time,  and  standing  with  the  muse  of  history  upon 
the  heights  of  antiquity,  behold  the  genius  of  the  past, 
sitting  upon  the  regal  throne,  around  whose  base  gener- 
ations have  scattered,  their  treasures,  whose  scepter  reach- 
es far  over  the  stretch  of  ages  and  in  whose  crown,  gleam- 
ing in  the  light  of  remembrance,  empires  brightly  flash. 
See  those  empires  in  the  zenith  of  their  glory  ! Behold 
their  grandeur,  and  you  have  seen  what  was,  what  flourish- 
ed, but  alas  ! what  is  no  more.  One  by  one  the  hand  of 
Fate  has  plucked  those  nations  from  the  golden  crown, 
until  not  oue  is  left  to  sparkle  alone;  in  the  night  of 
dusky  ages,  and  they  are  buried  deep  in  the  sands  of 
time.  0 ! queenly  Persia  ! Bride  ot  the  sea  ! Thou 
that  could’st  bridge  the  Hellespont  with  thy  navy  ! How 
art  thou  fallen  ! How  Time  has  scattered  thy  glories  to 
the  winds  ! How  the  dust  of  forgetfulness  is  sifting  over 
thy  remains.  One  current  of  forces  bore  the  Grecian  Em- 
pire upon  the  highest  wave  of  national  glory,  but  that 
tide  soon  ebbed,  and  where  is  Greece  to-day  ! 0 Greece  ! 
immortal,  beautiful  Greece  ! Victor  of  Marathon  and 
Thermopylae’ ! How  mighty  is  thy  fall  ! How  sad  is 
thy  degeneracy  ! Where  once  as  Queen  of  the  world, 
she  stood  with  arms  outstretched,  from  the  Ionian  sea, 
across  the  Hellespont,  and  beyond,  and  whose  eyes  flashed 
light  and  liberty  throughout  all  the  Orient! 

How  the  drooping  cypress  boughs  hang  down  their 
shades  and  the  lonely  pilgrims  of  centuries  idly  stroll  and 
mourn  and  shed  their  tears,  and  like  a heart-sick  mother 
the  Genius  of  the  world,  with  bleeding  heart,  sits  and 
weeps  for  the  loss  of  her  most  beautiful  child.  Tyre  once 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


148 

stood  Empress  of  the  Sea,  wielding  her  trident  over  the 
waves,  and  with  hounds  stretched  back  over  the  Jordan, 
grasping  the  girdle  of  the  Syrian  Desert.  But  she  too 
has  fallen,  and  the  wild  waves  laving  her  marble  feet, 
sprinkle  their  spray  upon  the  shore,  and  spider  moments 
have  woven  around  her  remains  their  dusky  shroud.  Look 
at  Palmyra  the  great  central  Emporium  of  oriental  trade 
from  whose  every  side,  radiated  the  grand  highways  of 
the  commercial  world,  and  in  whose  chambers  Eastern 
civilization  held  court.  Time  has  rolled  on,  but  alas  ! 
for  the  Mistress  of  the  Desert*  the  once  proud  Palmyra  ! — 
The  tide  of  trade  no  longer  flows  underneath  the  Cyclope- 
an arch.  No  slowly-moving  caravan  is  seen  passing  down 
the  windings  of  the  streets.  No  solitary  footfall  echoes 
along  thy  deserted^halls.  The  noisy  hum  of  human  life 
is  hushed  in  silence,  the  silence  of  the  tomb.  Now  the 
dry  dust  of  the  plain  comes  sweeping  over  thy  lonely  ruins 
and  as  the  Genius  of  thy  former  glory  sits  mourning  on 
thy  broken  arches,  her  wail  sadly  blends  with  the  solemn 
music  of  the  desert  winds.  On  the  Northern  coast  of 
Africa,  there  was  once  an  Imperial  City,  magnificent  and 
grand,  the  fair  daughter  of  an  ancient  Tyre.  It  was 
Carthage,  proud  Carthage,  who  standing  up,  flung  her 
shadow  back  upon  the  great  Desert,  and  with  one  hand 
reached  forth,  grasped  the  rock  of  Gibralter,  and  with  the 
other,  stretched  across  the  Mediterranean,  the  Alps,  the 
plains  of  Italy  and  beyond,  almost  snatched  the  fillet  of 
Imperial  Rome.  .Illustrious  Carthage,  proudest  child  of 
Atric’s  court  ! How  the  land  of  the  Moors  did  bow  at  thy 
feet,  and  how  did  the  proud  eagle  of  Imperial  Rome  flut- 
ter before  tliy  glance.  Centuries  have  fled  away  since 
then,  but  where,  0 ! where  is  Carthage  now  ? Go  ask 
the  martyrs  of  Zana.  Go  ask  Marius  whose  spirit  sits 
alone  upon  her  ruins.  Go  listen  at  the  sounding  sea  as 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


149 

the  waves  chant  her  requiem  along  the  shores,  and  there 
comes  ever  fluttering,  “ The  city  of  Dido  is  no  more.” — 
To-day  the  counter  currents  are  fiercely  battling  in  the 
life-stream  of  our  own  dear  and  native  land.  But  who 
can  predict  woe  and  ruin  for  Columbia’s  f ate  ? Who  does 
not  believe  that  the  current  of  Freedom  must  prevail 
over  the  current  of  slavery,  and  that  America,  immortal 
in  youth,  shall  survive  and  flourish  and  rule  omnipotent 
as  Empress  of  the  Western  world  ? Who  can  despair  of 
our  country  so  long  as  justice  is  the  ruling  passion  of  her 
soul,  and  the  finger  of  Deity  shall  point  out  her  pathway 
of  destiny  P Shall  she  fail  in  her  sublimest  mission  of 
Freedom  and  world-wide  charity,  thus  wrecking  so  many 
fortunes  of  the  Past,  and  blotting  out  so  many  hopes  and 
prospects  of  the  Future  ? Never,  never  ! Brittania,with 
jealous  eye  looking  across  the  waves, predicts  our  country’s 
ruin.  But  the  spirit  of  the  age  responds.  Her  destruc- 
tion shall  never  be  until  long  after  the  celebrated  New 
Zealander  shall  sit  upon  the  broken  arch  of  London 
Bridge,  and  sketch  the  ruins  of  St.  Paul.  Her  destiny 
is  written  most  beautifully  in  the  book  of  Fate,  by  the 
finger  of  Heaven,  and  naught  but  the  power  of  Omnipo- 
tence can  blot  it  out.  Boll  on,  ye  silent  train  of  years,  and 
bear  down  the  future  track,  the  world  to  better  stations. 
And  thou,  0 Columbia,  fair  Queen  of  the  Nation’s  guar- 
dian angel  of  Liberty,  robed  in  light,  shalt  stand  on  the 
summit  of  the  Cordilleras,  ruling  from  the  Gulf  to  the 
Northern  lakes  and  with  outstretched  hands  shalt  reach 
from  the  Atlantic  to  Pacific  shores. 


150 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF| 


INDIVIDUALISM. 

Where  is  he  who  wore  the  shibboleth  of  individuality 
into  life,  and  bore  the  mirror  of  the  world  in  his  being  P 
Alas  ! he  was  swept  away  by  the  torrent  of  centralization 
and  swallowed  up  in  the  bosom  of  absolutism.  Where  is 
his  broad  empire  which,  when  the  star  of  fortune  had  set- 
tled for  the  night,  the  star  of  hope  illumined  with  the 
bright  rays  of  immortal  day  ! It  has  been  turned  into 
the  great  commons  of  the  world,  where  market-men  hold 
their  fairs,  and  parties  meet  to  tune  their  harps  and  play 
their  subtile  wires.  Where  is  his  voice  w'hose  harmonies 
might  cheer  the  world’s  great  heart  like  the  strains  of  an 
Eolian  Lyre  ? His  muffled  and  his  feeble  words  are 
drowned  in  the  clamor  of  the  multitude.  Surely  he  still 
breathes,  but  only  through  the  nostrils  of  a party  ; he 
yet  sees,  but  only  through  the  eyes  of  a creed  ; he  still 
speaks,  but  only  with  the  rusty  trumpet  of  his  sect  ; the 
being  truly  exists,  hut  the  individual  hardly  breaks  the 
reluctant  silence  of  the  tomb.  This  man  whose  lightning 
flashes  of  genius  seemed  to  scare  the  very  fates  from  their 
high  places,  and  in  whom  the  pales  of  creation  blend  in  har- 
mony. has  banished  the  nature  enthroned  in  his  being,  and 
permitted  the  genius  of  art  to  wrap  him  still  living,  in 
the  cerements  of  the  grave.  Individuality  is  the  highest 
shibboleth  of  man,  self-reliance  the  first  law  of  his  being 
and  responsibility  the  best  school  of  life.  The  person  that 
would  submerge  himself  in  the  sweeping  current  ofcen- 
tralization  would  fling  his  highest  birth-right  to  the  idle 
winds. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


151 

He  that  floats  down  his  destiny  in  the  bark  of  another, 
is  a traitor  to  himself,  and  surely  he  that  would  become  a 
true  mariner  on  life’s  great  sea,  must  understand  the 
trade  winds  of  existence,  and  paddle  his  own  canoe.  Man 
absorbed  in  the  organization  of  power  becomes  but  the 
passive  cog-wheel  in  the  machinery  of  social  law,  but  the 
pivot  on  which  sweeps  the  forces  of  centralization.  It  is 
only  a steady  reliance  upon  his  own  individuality,  that 
can  make  him  an  active  motive  power  of  the  world’s  pro- 
gress, and  a being  who  can  rule  the  very  fates,  which  pre- 
side over  the  destinies  of  ages  and  of  empires.  We  were 
made  exclusive  beings  to  act  for  ourselves  and  to  live 
within  ourselves  ; and  if  man  works  upon  the  estate  of 
others,  his  own  nature  shall  be  barren  like  a desert  waste 
and  if  he  subsists  upon  the  fruits  of  the  external,  he  is  but 
a beggar  upon  the  world.  Why  should  man  let  the  na- 
tive forces  of  his  being  slumber  forever  in  order  to  culti- 
vate, the  interests  of  a party  ? Why  should  he  not  live 
upon  the  powers  and  resources  within  him,  rather  than  to 
exist  as  a pauper  upon  the  commons  of  the  world,  and  to 
let  their  force  and  goodness  waste  away  on  the  desert 
air. 

Individuality  subsists  upon  itself  and  revolves  within 
its  own  being.  It  always  obeys  the  everlasting  law  of 
gravitation,  but  it  is  never  jostled  from  the  poles  .of  its 
own  identity,  nor  ever  flies  from  its  destined  orbits  of  ex- 
istence. Early  in  childhood’s  morning  the  real  individual 
sails  out  from  the  busy  harbor  on  the  voyage  of  life. — 
Solitary  and  alone  he  floats  down  the  bay  of  his  existence 
and  then  plows  the  ocean’s  foam.  The  broad  sea  of  the 
world  before,  is  rippled  with  ten  thousand  counter-cur- 
rents of  life  and  activity,  and  teems  everywhere  with  the 
fleet  of  men  scudding  over  its  waves.  The  sky-blue  halls 
seem  lit  with  countless  torches  to  illumine  the  course  of 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


152 

life, and  the  beacon  lights  of  ten  thousand  ports,  cast  their 
flickering  rays  far  out  on  the  desert  waste  to  invite  the 
weary  mariner  to  his  home  or  to  allure  him  to  his  fate. — 
But  he  notices  not  these,  for  as  he  speeds  over  the  ele- 
ments chasing  the  hollowest  shadow  of  life,  he  is  the  pi- 
lot of  his  own  frigate  and  bears  the  star  ot  his  destiny  in 
his  own  brain. 

Who  ever  saw  such  a one  wrecked  or  cast  away  upon 
the  desert  sea  though  the  world  heaved  and  sighed  heav- 
ily, though  the  angry  waves  dashed  fiercely  against  him, 
though  the  darkness  of  the  night  of  chaos  hovered  o’er 
him  and  the  Furies  let  loose  their  storm-winds  to  howl 
around  him  as  if  to  sweep  the  sea  ? Individuality  casts 
man  upon  his  own  responsibilities  and  resources,  and  thus 
he  feels  all  the  natural  relations  of  life  and  the  necessities 
of  his  nature  call  into  operation  all  the  mighty  levers  of 
his  being  with  which  he  must  lift  himself  into  a glorious 
destiny.  * 

But  this  centralization  of  mankind,  which  seems  to  hold 
universal  empire  over  the  world,  may  he  equal  in  all  its 
forms,  hut  it  is  despotism  in  all  its  substance  ; for,  if 
you  cast  an  individual  upon  the  sweeping  tide  of  organic 
force,  where  will  he  go  P Where  is  his  freedom  ? It  is 
enervating  and  suicidal.  For,  if  a man  hides  himself  un- 
der the  shadow  of  a party,  and  flees  from  his  individual 
responsibilities,  the  storms  and  sunshine  of  existence,  he 
shall  droop  like  a withered  flower  and  his  life  shall  steal 
unnoticed  to  its  close,  for  unknown,  unhonored  and  un- 
seen, he  is  skulking  through  the  world  to  an  eternal  re- 
pose.  It  is  dwarfing  in  its  influence  upon  man,  for  it 
steals  his  birth-right,  breathes  into  him  the  spirit  of 
hollow  forms  and  wraps  him  in  the  iron  bonds  of  life- 
less conventionalities.  It  makes  him  the  microcosm 
of  the  world,  the  mere  appendage  of  a party  faction.  The 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


153 

organic  masses  of  humanity  are  like  the  great  forests  of 
the  earth  ; for  as  in  them  the  under-brush  can  never  flour- 
ish, nor  the  trees  themselves  grow  to  their  natural  size 
and  shape,  because  they  cannot  feel  the  electric  inspira- 
tion of  the  sunlight,  nor  breath  the  untrammeled  air,  nor 
widely  out-stretch  their  arms  to  battle  with  the  storm- 
winds  of  heaven  ; so  it  is  with  the  under-brush  of  organ- 
izations ; so  it  is  with  the  individuals  that  are  lost  in  the 
forests  of  centralization. 

But  he  who  revolves  upon  his  own  axis,  a world  within 
himself,  who  scorns  the  proffered  favor,  and  dares  the  fate 
of  life,  stands  out  in  bold  relief  upon  the  world’s  great 
level,  like  the  solitary  oak  upon  the  sweeping  plain, which 
spreading  wide  and  towering  in  majestic  grandeur,  seems 
to  mock  the  raging  winds  and  even  to  defy  the  thunder- 
bolts of  Heaven. 

But  the  world  is  poor  as  to  such  men,  and  therefore, 
when  they  touch  the  harp-strings  of  life,  their  melodies 
do  not  melt  away  upon  the  air,  like  .the  hitter  sigh  of  a 
girl  ; nor  does  their  glory  ever  fall  to  mingle  with  the  ru- 
ins of  decay  ; nor  does  the  world’s  memory  leave  their 
record  to  waste  away  at  the  portals  of  the  tomb  like  an 
idle  romance  of  a day. 

To  look  back  upon  the  boundless  sweep  of  the  past, 
horrid  darkness  has  gathered  there,  and  destruction  seems 
to  have  swept  over  it,  like  the  hissing  simoom  ot  the  des- 
ert, though  ages  appear  desolate,  like  barren  wastes,  and 
generations,  without  a living  record,  have  passed  away 
and  mouldering  empires,  in  confusion,  are  scattered  upon 
the  plain,  and  even  though  the  muse  of  history  sits  weep- 
ing over  the  ruins  as  she  sketches  the  scene,  yet  to  our 
joy,  we  see  scattered  here  and  there  upon  the  hights  of 
centuries,  the  noble  forms  of  men  who  maintained  their 
individuality  in  life,  and  in  death  never  lost  it  ; who,  liv- 
20 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


154 

ing,  built  an  ark  for  their  treasures  and  their  fortunes, 
and  who  in  dissolution  dared  destruction  and  the  fates  to 
sink  it  in  the  depths  of  eternity.  Here  they,  solitary, 
stand,  and  though  the  night  of  ages  can  but  span  between 
us,  yet  their  hallowed  shadows  come  flitting  down  to  us, 
beaming  with  immortal  deeds  ; their  virtues  shoot  forth 
like  sky-rockets  through  the  overhanging  darkness,  and 
their  golden  light  of  fame  seems  to  tinge  the  borders  of 
the  world. 

Socrates  and  Confucius,  Luther  and  Bonaparte,  Hum- 
boldt and  Parker  were  individuals  because  they  were 
great,  and  illustrious  because  they  maintained  their  indi- 
viduality. They  lived  within  themselves.  They  dived 
down  into  the  depths  by  their  own  diving-bells,  and  gath- 
ered up  the  priceless  jewels  which  the  hand  of  Nature  had 
scattered  there,  and  with  these  they  studded  the  niches  of 
their  lives.  More  easily  might  you  pour  an  ocean  into  a 
mill-pond  than  crowd  such  men  into  a party,  for  they 
were  greater  than  any  association  of  their  times.  A world 
within  themselves,  creation  must  be  their  sphere.  Omni- 
present in  power,  the  fates  must  be  their  slaves.  Such 
men  electrify  the  ages  with  the  inspiration  of  living 
thought,  and  swing  upon  their  destiny  as  the  mighty  pen- 
dulum whose  vibrations  move  the  clock-work  of  nations 
They  are  always  representative  men,  who  read  the  book 
of  Nature  by  the  lamp  within  themselves  and  never  let 
waves  that  they  create  upon  the  sea  of  life  overtake  them. 
They  smite  the  rock  of  Truth  with  their  magic  wands  and 
out  gushes  the  crystal  water,  to  quench  the  thirst  of  suf- 
fering man.  They  fearlessly  embark  upon  the  dismal  sea 
of  the  unknown  world  of  thought  to  discover  new  conti- 
nents of  truth  yet  wrapped  in  mystery.  They  are  the 
great  motive  power  that  draws  the  train  of  civilization, 
freighted  with  the  people  and  fortune  of  centuries  over 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


155 

the  common  track  of  the  world’s  progress.  More  easily 
might  you  chain  the  torrent  at  Niagara’s  flood  with  a rope 
of  straw  than  bind  the  sweep  of  such  mens’  minds  with 
any  conventionalities  or  any  creed.  More  easily  might 
you  confine  the  lightning  within  prison  walls,  than  chain 
their  electric  genius  to  the  slow  fate  of  parties  and  of  in- 
stitutional laws.  They  must  shoot  for  themselves  so 
long  as 

Justice  nerves  the  arm, 

And  Truth  strains  the  bow, 

Right  lies  bleeding  in  the  dust, 

And  Evil  breathes  a foe. 

They  must  think  and  speak  for  themselves  as  long  as 
Genius  shall  [day  upon  the  golden  harp  of  the  human 
mind,  and  the  finger  of  Destiny  shall  touch  the  lips  of 
man.  This  principle  of  Individuality  is  not  only  violated 
in  the  career,  and  history  of  man,  hut  is  ignored  by  the 
destinies  which  preside  over  the  life  of  generations  and 
ages.  Generations  living  seem  but  to  re-enact  the  part 
of  generations  lost,  and  ages , seem  hut  to  reproduce  the 
old  lifeless  scenes  which  have  been  passed  in  the  drama 
of  the  world.  Even  to-day,  though  the  noon  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  has  passed  away,  mankind  are  so  helpless 
in  their  dependence  upon  ancient  systems,  so  lost  in  the 
lifeless  refuse  of  centuries,  that  they  recoil  with  terror 
and  fear  at  any  progressive  change,  and  rise,  as  if  to  block 
the  rotation  of  destiny’s  wheel,  which  surely  turns  the 
world  towards  its  silent  hut  better  fate.  They  ride  back 
upon  the  tide  of  the  world’s  experience,  to  linger  and 
mourn  over  the  solitary  ruins  of  vanished  greatness,  and 
to  wander  among  the  deserted  scenes  where  genius  has 
slumbered  for  centuries  ; while  the  present  is  ever  flowing 
with  the  holiest  means,  and  the  golden  tide  of  opportun- 
ity is  flowing  away,  sweeping  its  greatest  advantages  to 
the  sea  of  the  ever-lost.  They  ponder  upon  the  myster- 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


156 

ies  and  lifeless  conventionalities,  which  for  ages,  have  pos- 
sessed the  mind  of  the  world,  like  an  idle  dream,  as  though 
each  age  has  not  brains  enough  to  write  its  own  stories, 
to  produce  its  own  philosophy,  and  to  live  upon  its  own 
unforgotten  love.  Thus  generations  lose  their  indepen- 
dence, and  grow  up  like  sickly  wild  flowers,  upon  the  low- 
ly ruins  of  departed  life.  Thus  man  loses  his  inviduality 
and  chilled  with  the  desert  winds  of  life,  sits  shivering 
upon  the  iceberg  of  popular  customs.  When  shall  the 
spirit  of  self  reliance  arouse  the  slumbering  energies  of 
man  and  break  the  enchantment  of  the  past,  which  binds 
the  world  in  bondage  worse  than  death  ? When  shall 
man’s  exiled  nature  regain  its  lost  dominions,  and  restore 
the  degenerate  slave  of  party  creed  and  fashion,  to  his 
royal  estate  again  ? When  man  shall  lift  himself  into 
the  ideal  of  his  highest  existence,  and  daring  to  be  free 
shall  step  forth  unveiled,  alone  and  untrammeled,  then 
shall  the  world  behold  herself  in  man,  for  he  shall  move 
an  empire  within  himself — a Prince  upon  the  throne, 
whose  reign  shall  be  a life  of  usefulness,  casting  golden 
sunbeams  upon  every  zone. 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLAllKE  RICE. 


157 


Oration  and  Valedictory  Address  Delivered  before  the 

Calliopean  Society , Fairfield  Academy. 

THE  PROBLEM  OF  THE  HOUR. 

To-day  the  American  People  are  to  solve  a mighty 
practical  problem  of  National  History — one  whose  demon- 
stration involves  the  great  issue  of  ages  and  of  the  pro- 
gress and  the  future  destiny  of  the  world.  The  awful 
consequences  which  will  necessarily  he  developed  in  the 
internal  struggle  that  is  now  going  on  in  this  land,  will 
not  only  effect  the  fate  of  the  American  Union  and  the 
Government  of  the  Nation,  hut  will  involve  the  grand 
universal  Ideas  and  Principles,  that  underlie  the  history, 
and  practical  policy  of  Nations  throughout  the  world,  and 
even  sweejD  the  golden  harp-cords,  that  string  the  bosom 
of  the  future,  and  thus  sound  the  notes  of  weal  or  woe,  on 
the  opening  ears  of  Posterity.  For  really,  this  is  not  a 
war  of  section  against  section,  of  state  against  state,  of 
empire  against  empire,  but  a struggle  between  hostile 
forces,  that  are  inspired  and  impelled  onward  by  antagon- 
istic principles,  and  purposes.  Hence  it  is  really  a con- 
test of  principles,  for  dominion, — of  Barbarism  against 
Civilization,  of  darkness  against  light,  of  slavery  against 
freedom.  And  in  view  of  the  exalted  position  which  this 
country  occupies  among  the  powers  of  the  globe,  and 
the  relation  which  the  issue  of  this  great  and  momentous 
struggle  sustains  to  the  history  of  the  world,  it  must  ne- 
cessarily vibrate  upon  the  feelings  of  the  world,  through- 
out all  places  and  all  times.  It  is  true,  that  we  see  the  two 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


158 

great  sections  of  our  common  country  arrayed  against 
each  other,  in  a most  horrid  civil  war.  Yet  is  it  not  cer- 
tain that  the  South  are  waging  this  war  against  the  Fed- 
eral Government  and  the  Union,  solely  because  they  were 
unfavorable  to  human  oppression,  and  resisted  the  pro- 
gress and  dominion  of  African  Slavery,  and  that  the  loyal 
freemen  of  the  North  have  rallied  under  the  glorious  old 
standard  sheet  of  the  Nation,  pledged  to  defend  it  as  the 
palladium  of  freedom  and  the  only  guarantee  of  our  per- 
sonal liberties  ? The  one  struggles  to  rear  a national 
throne  of  Human  Slavery  on  the  melancholy  ruins  of  the 
American  Union  while  the  other  labors  to  maintain  the 
Union  as  the  asylum  of  oppressed  humanity  and  to  hang 
the  beacon  lights  of  Liberty  in  the  watch-towers  of  the 
Republic.  And  thus  we  see  that  two  great  antagonistic 
ideas  underlie  the  mighty  military  movements  of  the  two 
sections — that  two  irreconcilable  principles  and  interests 
constitute  the  motive  power,  the  very  life,  spirit  and  soul 
of  the  two  contending  forces  in  the  land.  It  is  absolutely 
an  undeniable  proposition  that  the  aggressive  demands, 
and  necessities  of  slavery  impelled  the  South  to  organize 
this  unholy  crusade  against  the  Union,  and  the  cherished 
institutions  of  our  Country  which  are  the  common  inher- 
itance of  the  American  people,  that  the  inhuman  pro-slavery 
interest  of  the  Southern  oligarchy  constitute  the  very  heart 
and  brain  of  this  gigantic  Rebellion  against  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  land,  and  whose  supreme  purpose  is  the  na- 
tionalization of  human  bondage  in  the  sad  ruins  of  American 
Liberty.  Therefore  nature,  justice  and  history  all  unite 
in  dictating  that  the  Loyal  North  as  the  legitimate  Pow- 
er of  the  Nation  in  this  emergency  should  pursue  the 
policy  of  Universal  Emancipation,  of  removing  the  evil 
cause  that  hurled  us  into  the  perils  of  this  hour,  as  the  only 
measure  that  can  put  down  rebellion  forever,  save  the 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLAEKE  RICE. 


159 

Union  and  the  Country  from  destruction,  and  perpetuate 
them  despite  the  storms  of  ages.  Slavery  being  the  soul 
of  Rebellion  to-day,  Freedom  must  be  the  moving  spirit 
of  Loyalty.  Otherwise  there  would  he  no  conflict  be- 
tween Loyalty  and  Rebellion.  Therefore  if  Loyalty  would 
crush  Rebellion,  it  must  first  destroy  its  soul,  which  is 
Slavery,  and  of  course  Rebellion  would  soon  expire.  But 
if  treason  would  suppress  the  genius  of  Loyalty  it  must 
first  extinguish  its  life-spirit  which  is  Freedom  and  then 
Loyalty  will  droop  and  wither  from  the  world.  What 
American  patriot  does  not  believe  that  the  South,  if  she 
could  succeed  in  her  nefarious  designs  of  revolution,  would 
immediately  spread  its  horrid  incubus  of  human  bondage 
over  the  fair  bosom  of  the  Continent.  Then  why  should 
not  the  North,  being  her  natural  enemy  in  this  struggle, 
banish  Slavery  forever,  and  proclaim  white-robed  Liberty 
the  absolute  Queen  of  the  Empire.  In  times  of  war,  the 
irresistible  logic  of  events  quickly  works  a revolution  in 
public  sentiment,  and  attunes  the  harmonic  voice  of  the 
popular  soul  to  the  charms  of  another  song.  Already  the 
great  and  generous  heart  of  the  people  at  the  North  be- 
gins to  respond  to  the  anxious  cries  of  four  millions  of 
slaves,  and  to  have  its  mighty  pulse-beats  of  conviction, 
like  a thousand  battering-rams  against  the  Throne  of  the 
Administration,  urging  it  to  issue-  an  edict  of  uncondi- 
tional emancipation  to  all  the  slaves  in  the  land.  But 
still  hoary-headed  conservatism,  like  a startled  ghost 
rising  from  the  silent  tomb  of  the  past,  and  robed  in  a 
thousand  musty  parchments,  shudders  with  terror  at  this 
proposition,  because  it  may  not  be  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  very  letter  in  written  law.  But  how  groundless 
the  fear  ! How  absurd  the  objection  ! The  civil  law 
of  the  State  forbids  murder.  But  when  a man’s  life  is 
menaced  by  an  infamous  assassin,  then  self-preservation 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


160 

becomes  the  supreme  law  and  the  civil  law  is  ignored. — 
He  slays  the  villain  and  the  highest  law  both  of  Heaven 
and  Earth  justify  the  act.  But  now  when  our  beloved 
country  reels  under  the  crushing  blow  of  a gigantic  re- 
bellion, and  trembles  before  the  darkest  conspiracy  of 
traitors  ; when  the  power  of  Slavery  threatens  to  found 
its  empire  on  the  wreck  of  national  Freedom,  must  the 
Constitution  be  the  altar  on  which  she  is  to  be  sacrificed  ? 
No.  Let  her  preserve  herself  from  the  tomb  of  National 
ruin,  by  sweeping  with  one  mighty  effort,  rebellious 
traitors,  and  Slavery  together  from  the  continent,  and  the 
moral  sense  of  the  world  will  sound  the  praise  and  glory 
of  America.  Systems  of  oppression  are  inhuman  and  un- 
natural and  hence  they  cannot  be  permanent  and  enduring. 
And  a Republic  that  recognizes  Slavery  one  of  its  funda- 
mental institutions  is.  a palpable  contradiction,  a gross 
absurdity,  and  a lie,  for  it  pretends  to  blend  the  two  poles 
of  social  existence  in  social  harmony  and  union.  Surely 
unless  the  strong  arm  of  the  Government  hurls  the  dis- 
turbing element  of  Slavery  from  the  household  of  the 
Nation,  it  must  totter  and  fall.  Therefore  the  exigencies 
of  the  hour  demand  the  absolute  abolition  of  this  nefa- 
rious system  of  legalized  oppression,  as  a military  necessi- 
ty, as  a measure  of  justice  and  mercy,  as  a strong  means 
of  self-preservation.  Surely  this  great  country,  this 
highest  Heaven  in  the  realm  of  nations,  is  worth  more 
than  all  the  written  constitutions  of  the  Earth  and  let  us 
save  it  as  the  home  of  freemen  though  the  vo,ice  of  the 
Constitution  should  be  hushed  for  awhile  amid  the  din  of 
resounding  arms. 

After  Cains  Marius  had  been  driven  a harmless  exile 
from  his  native  land,  when  he  embarked  from  Carthage 
and  again  landed  in  Italy  with  the  view  of  a march  to 
Rome  to  regain  his  lost  position  as  Consul  of  the  Eternal 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


161 

City,  lie  proclaimed  liberty  to  all  the  slaves  who  would 
rally  under  his  standard.  Soon  he  had  a large  and  pow- 
erful army  under  his  command  and  he  marched  against 
the  Capital  of  the  civilized  world.  The  people  entreated 
Octavius,  the  Consul  of  the  Nation,  to  issue  an  edict  of 
Emancipation  to  all  the  slvaes.that  would  join  in  the  at- 
tempt to  defend  the  City  from  the  invasion  of  an  ambi- 
tious usurper.  But  he  was  uninfluenced  by  their  urgent 
request  and  responded,  “that  he  would  not  grant  such 
persons  the  freedom  of  the  city  in  defence  of  whose  Con- 
stitution he  kept  out  Marius.”  The  mighty  portals  of 
Rome  were  opened  before  the  invading  fofces.  Octavius 
was  dragged  from  the  tribunal  and  Marius  again  held  the 
helm  of  Empire.  Plutarch  says  that  the  cause  of  the 
Government  did  not  suffer  so  much  from  its  own  weak- 
ness as  by  the  anxious  and  unwise*  regard  of  Octavius  for 
the  Constitution  and  by  not  freeing  the  slaves. 

We  see  what  Marius  accomplished  by  Emancipation  ; 
but  let  us  hope  that  the  Administration  will  not  repeat 
the  example  of  Octavius  in  the  history  of  this  American 
struggle,  and  thus  bring  upon  this  Nation  the  melancholy 
fate  of  Rome.  Perhaps  the  loyal  power  of  the  Nation 
can  re-establish  its  authority  over  the  country  without  a 
measure  of  emancipation,  but  it  can  ne^r  crush  the  fiery 
spirit  of  rebellion  without  the  abolition  of  Slavery.  Be- 
fore we  can  put  down  this  great  sectional  conspiracy,  we 
must  subjugate  the  South,  and  before  we  can  do  this  we 
must  weaken  and  scatter  the  mighty  army  that  sits  on  the 
very  threshold  of  the  National  Capital.  Let  the  Admin- 
istration launch  the  bomb-shell  of  emancipat'on  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  Rebellion,  which  is  Slavery.  WI  o does 
not  believe  that  the  -whole  South  would  tremble  with  fear 
and  that  their  army  would  be  scattered  to  save  their  homes 
their  families  and  their  wealth  from  woe  and  destruction? 

♦21 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OP 


162 

Then  rise  up,  twenty  millions  of  Northern  freemen!  ye 
children  of  Washington,  ye  friends  of  glorious  Union  ! — 
Breathe  into  the  mighty  soul  of  the  Administration  the 
spirit  and  inspiration  of  freedom.  Nerve  the  strong  arm 
of  the  Government  with  your  loyalty  and  your  patriotism. 
Quicken  the  mighty  pulse-throbs  of  the  Nation’s  heart 
with  cheerful  words  and  noble  deeds.  Rekindle  the  ex- 
piring hope  of  the  world  and  aid  in  putting  down  the  trai- 
tors of  your  country.  Then,  soon  in  the  midst  of  a Na- 
tional jubilee,  the  celestial  angel  of  Peace  shall  again 
spread  her  white  wings  over  the  whole  land.  Justice, like 
a heaven-lit  rainbow  shall  bend  over  the  people  on  which 
Liberty  robed  in  light  shall  sit  and  guide  the  fortunes  of 
the  free. 

Valedictory  Address. 

Fellow  Calliopeans  and  Friends  : — Time  waits  for 
no  man  ; nor  can  man  resist  the  tide  and  linger  around 
any  period  of  his  life.  Indeed  human  existence  is  but  a 
continued  succession  of  events,  and  those  events  follow 
one  another  as  fleeting  shadows  chase  each  other  across 
the  sun.  Moments  that  make  up  eternity  drop  quickly 
through  the  clepsidra  of  the  world  and  ere  we  know  it, 
the  period  of  an  anniversary  runs  through,  which  closes 
the  circle  of  the' year.  It  seems  but  a little  while  ago 
since  we  met  as  a Society  to  commemorate  such  a period, 
but  since  then  we  have  been  swept  around  by  the  silent 
revolution  of  a year,  and  by  that  revolution  some  have 
been  attracted  to  us,  and  many  have  been  flung  from  our 
association,  to  fill  their  appointed  niches  in  the  destiny  of 
the  world.  And  again  we  recall  the  record  of  an  expiring 
year  by  rehearsing  the.  story  of  our  experience,  and  trac- 
ing our  prospects  as  presaged  by  the  shadows  of  the  past, 
we  would  cast  a horoscope  of  our  future  career  Although 
memory  can  look  back  and  inspire  gladness  from  the 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


163 

scenes  of  a cheerful  past,  nevertheless  that  past  will  ever 
brine-  also  its  sadness  to  our  hearts  for  its  realities  have 
robbed  us  of  friends  and  chances  which  the  future  can  nev- 
er replace.  Life’s  cold  necessities  soon  snap  asunder  the 
golden  ties  of  feeling,  sympathy  and  interest,  which  bind 
individuals  in  fraternity  and  unity.  Indeed  we  are  but 
pawns  and  knights  on  the  chess-board  of  the  world,  and 
with  whom  Chance  and  Fate  are  ever  playing  the  game 
of  life,  and  although  we  contract  strong  friendship  for 
each  other,  yet  we  cannot  be  long  together,  for  Chance 
moves  quickly,  and  as  il  to  win  till  we  shall  all'  be  swept 
forever  from  the  board. 

Thus  those  who  but  a little  while  ago  were  joined  to 
our  association  by.  all  the  ties  of  nature  and  interest,  have 
been  snatched  form  it  forever  to  fulfill  life’s  mission  and 
seek  their  fortunes  in  the  lottery  of  a gambling  world. — 
Their  familiar  voices  break  no  more  on  our  anxious  ears, 
and  if  we  ask,  “Where  in  the  world  are  they  ?,”  echo  will 
alone  mock  us  with  its  sad  response.  Fortune  has  scat- 
tered them  like  forest  trees  swept  by  an  Autumn  gale  ; 
and  now  some  may  be  climbing  the  giddy  hights  of  hu- 
man glory,  while  others,  less  fortunate,  may  be  wander-, 
ing  in  solitude  through  a gloomy  destiny.  Many  may  be 
nobly  struggling  in  the  cause  of  Nature,-  of  our  country, 
and  of  man  ; and  some,  perchance,  are  sleeping  the  slum- 
bers of  the  tomb.  Although,  as  friends,  their  worn  spir- 
its linger  with  us  still,  yet  as  associates  their  long  absence 
tells  a mournful  tale.  Though  their  noble  deeds  and  acts 
of  kindness  bloom  as  pleasant  and  unfading  recollections 
in  our  memories,  yet  they  have  left  an  eternal  void  in  our 
little  company,  which  none  but  they  could  ever  fill. 

I cannot  hope  to  exalt  their  merits  in  the  world’s  care- 
ful estimation,  for  no  word  of  favor  can  magnify  the  worth 
and  beauties  of  a worthy  character.  But  when  we  behold 


LETTERS  AND  WRITINGS  OF 


164 

tliem  snatched  away  from  us  forever,  what  heart  can  but 
heave  with  a struggling  sigh,  and  who  will  nyt  lift  up  his 
willing  voice  to  swell  the  tribute  of  their  praise  ? Al- 
though but  a short  space  of  time  has  passed  into  eternity 
since  we  first  met  as  members  of  the  same  association,  and 
became  linked  together  in  the  bonds  of  a common  interest, 
yet  who  can  estimate  the  untold  blessings  that  have  beam- 
ed forth  upon  us  from  that  interval,  like  inspiring  rays 
of  golden  sunlight,  gilding  the  innermost  ^“triples  of  our 
beings  with  coruscations  of  joy  and  gladness.  It  has 
been  a season  ot  bur  lives  that  has  revealed  many  great 
truths  to  the  thoughtful  understanding.  It  has  yielded 
to  us  the  highest  advantages,  and  been  fruitful  in  the  no- 
blest opportunities  ; and  I hope  we  have  not  journeyed 
through  it  without  gathering  many  lessons  of  wisdom,  for 
every  moment  has  related  an  important  story,  and  the 
voice  of  buried  ages  has  whispered  ever  in  our  ears. 

We  are  wandering  through  life’s  labyrinthian  halls,  as 
so  many  flaming  torches,  but  as  they  glimmer  so  dimly, 
man  alone  would  hardly  be  able  to<grope  the  winding  way 
through  the  darkness  which  settles  over  his  pathway,  but 
as  we  happen  to  meet  and  chance  to  have  a comrade  in 
our  travels,  we  wisely  let  our  individual  lights  flow  to- 
gether, and  mingle  in  a common  volume,  and  thus  our 
course  has  been  made  plain  and  easy,  and  we  have  moved 
on  harmoniously  together.  But  alas  ! we  cannot  be  long 
thus  with  each  other,  for  as  the  thousand  rills  that  con- 
verge and  blend  in  a common  channel  and  sweep  ever  on- 
ward in  their  courses  to  mingle  with  the  waters  of  the 
broad  ocean,  so  have  we  met  in  a common  channel  and 
have  been  borne  swittly  downward  in  our  course  of  destiny 
by  the  impetuous  current,  soon  to  be  separated  forever 
and  lost  from  each  other  in'  the  stormy  sea  of  a battling 
world.  And  though  we  may  make  but  little  ripples  on 


LIEUT.  ADAM  CLARKE  RICE. 


165 

the  broad  surface  of  that  sea,  yet  surely  we  shall  stir  its 
lowest  depths,  and  help  modulate  the  music  of  its  thun- 
dering voice.  But  now  when  we  linger  on  the  shores  of 
the  world’s  unknown  future,  about  to  embark  on  the  many 
tides  that  roll  hack  in  a hundred  courses,  let  us  speak 
kind  words  of  advice  and  encouragement  to  each  other, for 
they  may  vibrate  forever  on  our  ears.  Truly,  we  are  the 
children  ot  fortune, who  have  inherited  the  wealth  of  gen- 
erations ; pupils  who  may  ever  study  the  story  of  the 
world’s  experience,  the  lessons  of  ages  forever  gone.  If 
you  avail  yourselves  of  these  transcendent  pivileges,  life 
to  you  can  he  hut  a pleasant  journey  and  your  destiny 
brilliant  and  sublime.  And  to  the  extent  of  these  privil- 
eges and  advantages,  your  duties  and  responsibilities  will 
he  measured  by  the  demands  of  society  We  are  passing 
through  the  school  of  existence,  and  that  school  is  the 
mirror  of  the  coming  century,  and  in  it  germinates  the 
hope  of  the  world.  We  are  not  only  learning  the  lesson 
which  shall  guide  us  through  the  storms  and  rugged  pass- 
es of  our  existence,  hut  are  helping  form  the  mold  in 
which  is  to  be  cast  the  future  destiny  of  a mighty  people. 
No  proud  aristocracy  rules  the  fortune  of  our  beloved 
country.  Ours  is  a commonwealth  of  princes,  every  man 
being  a pillar  of  the  Nation.  We  have  no  order  of  nobil- 
ity, but  the  royalty  of  man  and  manhood  is  the  highest 
prerogative  of  Americans.  Your  great  duties  bespeak  the 
sublimity  and  grandeur  of  your  mission,  and  if  you  would 
fulfill  your  true  mission,  and  work-out  a glorious  destiny, 
you  must  first  learn  the  lesson  of  self-acquaintance.  Be- 
cause he  who  knows  himself,  can  teach  any  key  in  human 
nature,  and  he  who  can  play  skillfully  on  the  subtle  ten 
thousand  feelings  that  string  the  lyre  of  humanity,  can 
produce  strains  of  music  that  will  drown  the  command  of 
potentates  and  charm  the  world  with  their  melody. 


LETTERS  AND  .WRITINGS  OF 


166 

Now,  kind  friends,  what  glowing  scenes  of  memory  urge 
you  onward  ? What  alluring  prospects  that  crown  the 
towering  eminences  of  futurity,  invite  you  upward  to  glo- 
ry and  to  fame  ? To-day  you  are  to  decide  whether  your 
names  shall  perish  as  unmeaning  words  written  in  the 
sand,  or  whether  your  names  shall  shine  forever  as  spot- 
less jewels  in  the  history  of  the  world  and  your  exam- 
ples call  torth  the  admiration  of  mankiud,  and  radiate 
like  golden  sun-beams  far  down  the  course  of  time.  For 
truly  noble  names  are  the  worthiest  keep-sakes  of  passing 
generations,  and  every  good  deed  shall  ever  glimmer  upon 
the  world  like  a twinkling  star,  though  wrapped  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night  of  ages.  If  you  use  the  compass  of 
reason  to  mark  out  the  courses  of  your  lives,  and  justice 
as  the  guiding  star  of  your  destiny,  long  hence, when  you 
shall  he  far  out  on  the  world’s  broad  sea,  widely  tossed 
upon  its  boisterous  billows,  when  this  period  shall  have 
grown  dim  in  the  distance,  then  your  souls  in  dreamy  rap- 
ture may  lean  back  upon  the  past,  and  become  happy  over 
times  and  scenes  blooming  with  pleasant  and  immortal 
recollections  ; while  Hope  may  still  stretch  far  down  the 
secret  aisles  of  coming  time,  fancying  bright  visions 
and  gilding  the  remotest  chambers  of  Futurity  with 
cheerfulness  and  joy.  Then,  one  and  all,  with  each 
others  memories  treasured  in  our  hearts,  if  come  it  must 
as  come  it  will,  then  we  must  all  separate  forever  on  the 
world’s  boundless  deep.  And  where’er  on  its  desert  wat- 
ers you  may  roam,  may.  your  happiness  be  as  deep  as  the 
sea,  and  your  hearts  as  light  as  the  loam. 


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